The 3 Hitter Job
by Lolita Wright
Summary: The team has gone into retirement but must reunite to save Eliot. Sequel to The Retrieval Job, including original character (OC) Loki. ** Complete **
1. Chapter 1

**The 3 Hitter Job**

Author's Note: Leverage and the awesome characters are not mine. Thank you for letting me borrow them for awhile. The songs and lyrics in the soundtrack also, are not mine, but have inspired this story and deserve to be mentioned.

A few warnings… first off, I'm not real good writing the con part. Have trouble thinking that way I guess. And secondly, this story is pretty much full of self-indulgence. There are characters I want to write and scenes I want see. Kind of my own personal farewell to the show. I might meander a bit because I'm not sure I can fit all the characters in to the main storyline. But, if you enjoyed my previous fic, The Retrieval Job, I think you'll find some enjoyment here. Third, I'm doing my best at editing, but only have so much time for writing and editing. Some things might slip through because I'm focusing on writing new stuff more than editing.

I welcome feedback and reviews. Thanks!

**One: You Won't Feel A Thing**  
_Soundtrack: You Won't Feel a Thing by The Script_

Eliot was surprised to make it to his loft without having to fight for his life. He keyed in his code on the pad and Hardison's security system reported that his loft was safe. He paused with his hand on the door knob. The system had never failed him, but the attempts on his life were becoming more sophisticated with each passing day.

He took a deep breath and opened the door. After a moment with no movement, no sound, and no fade to black, Eliot exhaled and crossed the threshold. He hit the dimmer switch and did a visual check of the lower floor. Nothing out of place. He closed the door, pressed a button on the security pad, and headed directly for the refrigerator.

He opened the door intending to grab a beer but an apple rolled off the bottom shelf and hit the floor. He knelt down to retrieve it and heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by the sound of a high caliber round drilling into the freezer.

Eliot dropped to his stomach. Another round tore into a cabinet. He rolled against the island for cover and looked up just in time to see two more bullets rip into another cabinet and the range hood.

He eased around the corner of the island and looked at the large windows that made up a majority of the west wall. "Damn it, Hardison! I told you those were dangerous!" he growled. He strained to see any movement on the building across the street. He saw nothing.

He stayed on his stomach watching and listening for several minutes. Nothing happened. He turned and looked at the refrigerator. He couldn't do much about a sniper. But he had a refrigerator full of beer and raw meat and security measures that would keep anybody from breaching the perimeter. He wouldn't have to leave the loft for seven days. He could definitely win a siege.

He rolled back towards the open refrigerator, grabbed two bottles of Sierra Nevada, and closed the door. He sat up and put his back against the refrigerator, the island still serving as cover. He was just finishing the second beer when he heard a commotion in the hall. It sounded like a good old fashioned fight.

He was debating whether to go check the hallway or get a third beer when someone pounded on his door. He almost laughed out loud. Did they really think he was going to answer that?

"Eliot! Open the door!"

Just the sound of her voice was enough to snap him to his feet. The pain he heard in her voice had him running for the door. He turned off the lights and looked through the security peep hole. His chest tightened at the sight of her.

He hadn't seen or talked to her for almost a year.

She was dressed for combat in all black, wearing a Kevlar vest, her hair hidden under a cap. She was bracing herself against the door with one arm and the other arm was down at her side, most likely holding a weapon.

It wasn't a coincidence that she showed up when people were trying to kill him. But which side was she on?

He had pushed her away. He had done and said things that he regretted. He had hurt her. Was it enough for her to take a contract on him?

He hesitated, his hand over the security key pad, still watching her through the peep hole. She glanced down the hallway then back at the door. "C'mon, Eliot! We don't have long before somebody calls 9-1-1."

He punched in the code and yanked the door open, catching her off guard. As she tumbled through the doorway, Eliot grabbed her outstretched arm and put his hip into hers. With a quick bump, she was airborne. He tried to ease her fall as he reached for her gun hand.

"You dumbass!" she growled.

He found a pistol in her right hand, easily broke her grip on it, and took the weapon. She hit the ground with a sharp exhale of breath and a curse involving his manhood. He checked the safety and finding it on, tossed the pistol out of her reach.

He kicked the door shut with his boot and positioned himself over her. He straddled her hips and pinned her wrists to the floor. She didn't resist.

"Was there ever a time that you trusted me?" she snarled. "For real?"

"People are trying to kill me," he said.

"No shit."

"It wouldn't be the first time you…"

"Don't!" she barked. "Don't you dare finish that sentence Spencer!"

He stared at her for a few moments, trying to make out her features in the darkness. He couldn't make out anything except the angry set of her jaw.

"Get off me," she said. "Get off me now!"

Something in her tone went right to his core, making him feel like an ass. "Jocelyn, I'm…"

"I'm going to be sick…!"

He rolled off her and watched as she rocketed off the floor and stumbled down the hall. "First door on your right," he called after her.

She didn't slow down to find the lights, and in a moment he heard her heaving. His stomach turned at the sound. It was more compassionate than he was.

He glanced at the windows and considered her appearance. If she were here to kill him, she wouldn't have brought it in close. It would be an intensely personal kill for her. She couldn't look him in the face and pull the trigger.

He got up, grabbed a Pepsi and a beer from the refrigerator and headed to the bathroom. The toilet flushed just as he reached the door. He walked in and found her bent over the sink splashing water on her face. After a moment she grabbed the towel, and straightened up.

He stood behind her, watching her through the mirror as she dried her face. He saw fresh wounds from a knife over one eye and across her neck. Her lip was split and the entire right side of her face looked swollen.

Her eyes met his and they stared at each other for a few moments.

"Migraine?" he asked finally.

"What else would it be?" she snapped.

He held the Pepsi up. "This still help?"

She nodded. She hung up the towel, turned to face him, and took the can.

"Why take the job if it makes you sick?"

She opened the can. She gave a quiet snort and shook her head slightly. "Technically it's not the job," she said. "It's you."

He felt like she had punched him in the solar plexus. She held his eyes for a moment, and then pushed past him.

A familiar anger built in his abdomen, and he took a long drink of beer. Then he followed her. She opened the door to the coat closet. She took a long drink of the soda and then held the can to her temple. When he stopped at her side pointed at his exit bag, and then abruptly walked away. She set the Pepsi on a side table and retrieved her gun.

He put his attention on his exit bag - a medium sized leather bag that held essentials needed for a quick exit as well as a few sentimental items that he couldn't stand to leave behind. He took another drink of the beer, thinking about his options.

He had spent a lot of time thinking about… no, fantasizing about their reunion. When they came together in the past it had always been thrilling. Murmansk. Kalispell. Chicago.

But now… this…

She returned to his side and stared at him for a minute. "What are you doing?" she growled.

He took another long drink of the beer. _This_ reunion was spoiled by their failed relationship.

"What are you doing, Spencer?" she repeated with the same mother bear intonation.

He couldn't remember her ever calling him by his last name.

"Thinking," he replied, not bothering to look at her.

He could feel her anger. "What's to think about?" she asked through clenched teeth. "Survivors move. You stay here, you die."

He didn't move.

"Holy shit! You **do** have a death wish!"

He turned to look at her. She stared at him waiting for an explanation. She deserved an explanation. He opened his mouth to start one, but she cut him off.

"We're done here," she said. "Time to pack up team."

He'd spent enough time wired into a team communications network to understand.

She moved toward the door. "I'm on my way out now. Dex, what have you got on the security cams?" She opened the door and checked the hall. "No, he's not coming…"

She glanced over her shoulder at him, and when she spoke her voice was softer. "Goodbye, Eliot. I won't stay here and watch you die."

She disappeared into the hall, but he could still hear her talking to her team. "You're getting paid, aren't you, Winger? Quit your bitching!"

Emotions rolled through him, and he hated it. He would rather eat a punch than be strangled by emotions he didn't want.

He exhaled sharply and tried to clear his mind. He punched the code into the keypad and grabbed his bag. He considered the beer in his hand, and decided to take it with him.

With a last glance at the loft, he walked out and closed the door. He was surprised to have to step over three bodies on the way to the stairwell. He saw no pools of blood and no visible weapons. Maybe she hadn't killed them. And maybe she had just done a good job of cleaning up after herself.

She was standing in the open stairwell door, watching him approach.

He nodded back towards his loft. "A bit dramatic back there, don't you think?"

She gave a small shrug. "Looks like Spencer changed his mind," she said to her team. "And he doesn't have a vest. Winger you take care of that shooter?"

She slipped into the shadows of the stairwell and he followed. "Well, it would be awesome if you could button him down before we hit the alley."

They moved quickly down the first flight of stairs, but she stopped suddenly on the ground floor landing. She put a hand on his chest and pushed him against the wall. She crouched down in front of him. He set his bag on the cement floor.

The door slowly opened and Jocelyn slid her pistol around it and without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

A man grunted in pain and fell into the stairway, his arms stretched out in front of him, a gun in one hand. A woman screamed on the other side of the door.

Jocelyn launched herself around the door and over the injured man's body. The man grabbed for her, but Eliot smashed the beer bottle over his head and took the gun.

Jocelyn turned her body and looked into the hallway where the screaming continued. "Get out of here!" she yelled.

Gunfire sounded in the hall, and Jocelyn disappeared from his view. The large man at his feet moaned, and Eliot paused long enough to grab the man's hair, lift his head and slam his forehead into the cement. The man stilled.

More gunfire from the hallway, and Jocelyn cried out. Eliot rounded the door, and raised the gun. He took in the whole scene and made his decision in a fraction of a second. A man, dressed in a gray suit was aiming a pistol at Jocelyn's forehead. Eliot pulled the trigger twice before the man even realized he was there. As he fell, the man pulled the trigger on Jocelyn, but his hand had slipped and her vest stopped the bullet.

It was still painful to take a bullet that way, and Jocelyn was sucking air through gritted teeth. Eliot scanned the area, and finding no other threats went back to the stairwell to get his bag.

She was still lying on the floor when he returned. He knelt beside her, looked over her. "You okay?"

"No," she grimaced.

He saw where the vest had stopped two bullets. "You hit?"

She nodded, "Just grazed me."

"Where?"

She patted her right thigh. He examined it quickly and was relieved to see that it was shallow wound.

She grabbed his arm and pulled herself to sitting. He helped her to her feet. "Dex, tell me that's all of them…" She bent over, put her hands on her thighs and took a few jagged breaths.

"Son of a bitch that hurts" she muttered.

She started toward the back hallway, moving slower now. "Winger, it's all you. We're 15 seconds from the alley."

Eliot stepped in front of her and led the way. He walked down the hallway, towards the service entrance, alert for unexpected sound or movement, his eyes constantly scanning the area.

When he reached the door, he paused and looked back at her. "Winger?" she called. After a moment, she nodded at him and he opened the door and walked into the alley.

Tail lights flashed to his left and he headed for a black SUV. Jocelyn followed. He walked to the passenger side; she headed for the driver side. As they got closer, Eliot could see a large figure in the driver's seat.

They got in and Eliot dropped his bag on the floorboard. Jocelyn leaned back into the seat, closed her eyes, and started breathing deeply.

Eliot assessed the driver as he slowly turned to look at him. He had the presence of a freight train. Big, dark skinned with lots of tribal-like tattoos creeping up his neck and over his thick arms. Dark hair in a close cropped cut, and large dark eyes.

"So this is him?" the driver said. "The legendary Eliot Spencer?"

"The one and only," Jocelyn responded quietly, her eyes still tightly closed in pain.

"And you're the computer guy?" Eliot asked.

The large man shrugged, "Just a hobby."

"We call him Dexter," Jocelyn said.

There was a sudden thump on the roof, and all three of them reacted.

"Just me," a man crooned.

A long, lean figure dressed in black slid off the roof and landed next to the passenger door. He opened the door and tossed a large case on the floor, then slid into the seat.

"Why don't you just take the stairs like a normal person?" Dexter asked.

"Where's the fun in that?" the new arrival asked with a cocky smile.

Jocelyn exhaled and leaned back again. "That's Winger," she said.

The driver put the vehicle in gear and pulled into the street.

"Winger because I survive on a wing and a prayer," Winger said with a smile, looking at Eliot.

"Winger because that's your name," Dexter replied.

Winger moved his eyes to Jocelyn. "You okay?"

"I'll live," she said. She put the safety on her pistol and set it on the seat, then began pulling at the Velcro on her vest.

"Let me," Eliot said, putting his weapon safety on and setting it down.

"Well, you look like hell, Joss" Winger said.

Eliot bristled at Winger's familiarity with Jocelyn.

Jocelyn tried to laugh as Eliot undid the vest. "You always know just what to say, Troy."

Eliot knew by the tense muscles in her face that she was in intense pain. When he finally got the vest off, she exhaled forcefully. She looked Winger. "We clear?"

The man pulled off his cap, exposing a shock of white-blond hair. "As far as I know." He turned his bright eyes back to Eliot. "So, let's hear it Spencer."

"What?"

"Why do you want to die?"

"Troy," Jocelyn gave an exasperated sigh.

"No, we've got a right to know," Dexter said.

"Plus we've got a case of beer riding on it," Winger said with a grin. "I say it's a terminal disease."

"And I say it's a lifetime of regrets," Dexter said, making eye contact with Eliot through the rear view mirror. "Probably including a woman."

There was a moment of silence, then Jocelyn looked at him. "I'll tell you one thing, boys, Eliot Spencer cannot be undone by a woman."

Eliot clenched his jaw and gave a minute shake of his head. Acid burned up his throat.

Winger looked back and forth between them. "I dunno… maybe if she was part of a series of events… you know like…" he began to sing, channeling Blake Shelton, "Candy, she left me for my brother Hank… and took my old dog, I guess she's a…"

"Enough thanks!" Jocelyn said cutting the kid off.

Dexter gave a hardy laugh. "Please tell me I can download that on iTunes!"

Eliot watched as Jocelyn pulled off her cap, her hair flowing down to her shoulders. He wished he could tell what color it was. He continued to stare until she looked at him. He searched for the connection they once had, where he could tell what she was feeling by just examining her face. After a few moments he gave up.

She had never been a stranger to him. Not even when they had first met in that cell in Murmansk. But she was now.

She turned away from him and looked out the window. "Take us home, Dex."

_'Cause I will take it on the chin, eh, for you  
So lay your cuts and bruises over my skin  
I promise you won't feel a thing, no  
'Cause everything the world could throw I'll stand in front,  
I'll take the blow for you, for you_  
~ You Won't Feel A Thing by The Script ~


	2. Chapter 2

**Two: The Only Hope for Me Is You  
**Soundtrack: The Only Hope for Me Is You by My Chemical Romance

It had been 15 minutes of quiet driving on mostly abandoned streets. So when a gray van suddenly shot out in front of them at an intersection, it had their attention. Jocelyn, Winger, and even Dexter were reaching for weapons.

The van skidded to a stop, blocking their way. The sliding door flew open and Eliot counted three assault rifles pointed at them.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Dexter growled, slamming on the brakes.

A fourth assault rifle appeared in the driver's window.

Before anybody could react, a man with a French accent started yelling in their direction. "Melissa Hardy!"

"Shit!" Jocelyn said.

"We just want Spencer," the man continued, stepping out of the sliding door and down onto the pavement, his rifle leveled in Dexter's direction. "Just give us Spencer and the rest of you can go!"

"He talking to you, boss?" Dexter asked.

"Unfortunately," she said clicking the safety off her pistol.

"They totally own us," Winger observed. Eliot could hear him sliding a clip into a gun.

Everybody in the van knew he was right.

"Melissa, don't do anything stupid! Just step out of the vehicle and talk to me!"

"Okay, Jean-Paul! Don't shoot!" Jocelyn replied, slowly opening her door.

"Damn it, Jocelyn, you don't have a vest!" Eliot warned.

"No weapons!" the Frenchman yelled. "Let me see your hands!"

"Stay in the fucking car, J," Dexter said.

She tucked the pistol in the back of her pants and put her hands over the top of the door so the Frenchman could see them.

"You guys got about 20 seconds to save our asses," she said softly.

Jocelyn stepped onto the pavement but stayed behind the door.

"Out where I can see you," the man goaded, motioning with his weapon.

"Jocelyn…!" Eliot growled.

"Smoke or boom?" Dexter asked quietly.

After a moment, Winger responded, "Why just one?"

Eliot could see Dexter smile. "Gonna start calling you Captain Mayhem, kid."

Eliot assumed they were talking about grenades and smoke bombs. If the grenade didn't take out all the hitters, the smoke would give them some cover and allow them to get into a better defensive position.

"Just send Spencer over and you can be on your way," the Frenchman said.

"You with us, Spencer?" Dexter asked, keeping his eyes on the hit squad in front of them.

He reached for the gun still resting near his left hand. "Yeah."

"If I give you Spencer, my boss will kill me," Jocelyn responded.

"And who is that?" the man asked.

"Arden Doyle," she replied.

"What the fuck?!" Winger snapped.

Arden Doyle was a ruthless Irish mob boss. There was an awkward moment of silence from the hit squad, and then some grumblings.

"She's bluffing," Dexter said, "But she's got their attention."

"Why does Doyle care about the likes of Spencer?" the Frenchman asked.

"Why does Janvier?" she countered.

"Janvier ordered the hit?" Eliot asked.

"I have no idea, man," Dexter replied.

Eliot had worked with Didier Janvier years ago. He thought they had parted on professionally friendly terms.

"Take this, Winger," Dexter said. Then he addressed Jocelyn, "Get ready to drop, boss."

"Your special grenade?" Jocelyn asked sotto voce.

"You know it," Dexter said.

"God help us," Jocelyn whispered.

Eliot heard Dexter and Winger pull the pins from their grenades.

"Smoke first," Dexter said.

Eliot took note of the position of each of the four hitters and planned his approach.

Winger launched the smoke grenade with no discernible movement.

Jocelyn took a step towards the van and raised her voice, attempting to cover the sound of Winger's grenade hitting pavement. "Get Janvier on the phone," she said. "Let me talk to him."

Dexter continued planning, "Winger and I will move in from the left, Spencer you attack from the right. Take the fight in close and we're less likely to shoot each other."

"What about me?" Jocelyn asked quietly while the Frenchman was yelling French obscenities.

"I told you, stay in the fucking car, J," Dexter said.

The smoke was starting to form a wall between the vehicles and Jocelyn pointed at it and yelled, "What are you trying to pull, Jean-Paul?"

Dexter threw his grenade at the van. "Get down, J!"

The French hitters started shooting and Eliot saw Jocelyn go down. "Jocelyn!" he yelled. His heart stopped beating. He couldn't breathe. He didn't know if a bullet had taken her down or if she was following Dexter's order.

The grenade exploded, the flash lighting up the entire street, the concussion taking a large fraction of his hearing and leaving a muffled buzzing noise. He had never experienced such a bright flash or loud explosion from a simple grenade. He heard screeching metal and the sound of a few bullets ripping into the SUV.

His mind was focused on Jocelyn, but his body was in survival mode. He opened the door and ran through the smoke towards the van.

He couldn't see Winger or Dexter and struggled to hear footsteps. As he neared the van he saw that it had flipped onto the passenger side and was on fire. He wondered what exactly Dexter had done to that grenade.

An arm came out the van door, a hitter trying to pull himself up. Eliot knelt down next to the tire, tucked the pistol in the back of his pants and waited for the man's torso to clear the door.

As soon as the weapon appeared, Eliot grabbed it and pulled the man out of the van, flipping him onto his back on the pavement. He dropped his body onto the man's chest, slamming his elbow into the man's face and knocking him unconscious.

He saw fighting toward the front of the van, and noticed the absence of gunfire. Another man climbed out of the door. Eliot came quickly to his feet slamming a powerful uppercut into the man's chin. The man made no sound, but fell back into the van.

Eliot reached into the van, grabbed the man by the back of the head and pulled him back out far enough to slam his knee into the man's forehead. He pulled the weapon free and let the man fall back into the van.

There was a brush of a body on his left arm, and Eliot rocketed a right cross in that direction. His punch was deflected and somebody gave him a slap on his cheek.

Eliot focused on the man and saw Winger grinning at him. "We're clear!" Eliot was suspected Winger was yelling, but it didn't seem that way with his impaired hearing.

Dexter appeared at Winger's shoulder and motioned towards the van. Eliot searched for Jocelyn, but couldn't make anything out through the smoke. He ran for the van yelling her name.

When they broke through the smoke, Eliot saw her still lying on her back. His stomach heaved. Winger cursed something involving the holy family and sped up. Winger reached Jocelyn first, dropped to his knees beside her, released the three weapons he was carrying, and put his fingers to her throat.

Eliot knelt at her other side, setting down his weapons. He could hear Dexter yelling something as he approached.

Eliot felt bitter heat moving up his throat, but it eased when Winger yelled, "Strong pulse!"

Dexter came to a stop near Winger. "She's fine," he yelled.

Winger ran his hands over her body and the bile rose again in Eliot's throat.

"She's not fine… she's been hit!" Winger snapped, pointing to her leg.

Eliot shook his head, "That was earlier."

"I knocked her out," Dexter said, lowering his voice.

Eliot looked up at him. "My hearing isn't right yet… sounded like you said you knocked her out."

Dexter nodded. "She was in no shape to fight any more tonight."

"So you punched her?" Eliot snapped.

Dexter shrugged. "Better than taking a bullet without a vest, don't you think?"

Winger shook his head and laughed.

Dexter shooed Winger away, took his place and checked Jocelyn over with the skill of an experienced field medic. When he was satisfied, he gathered her into his arms and put her in the back seat.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Dexter said.

Winger gathered up all the weapons and walked around the front of the car. Dexter climbed into the driver's seat. Eliot walked to the back of the SUV and emptied his stomach near the tailpipe.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his stomach. Winger was suddenly there. Eliot reluctantly looked up at him.

"You okay, man?" Winger asked.

"Yeah, fine," he said, straightening up and moving slowly around to the passenger side.

"Chemo's a bitch, huh?" Winger asked.

Eliot paused at his door to make eye contact with the kid. "It's not a terminal disease."

"Damn!" Winger replied. "Now I gotta buy him beer."

_If there's a place that I could be  
Then I'd be another memory  
Can I be the only hope for you?  
Because you're the only hope for me  
And if we can't find where we belong  
We'll have to make it on our own  
Face all the pain and take it on  
Because the only hope for me is you alone_

~ The Only Hope for Me Is You by My Chemical Romance ~


	3. Chapter 3 - Amazed

**Three : Maybe I'm Amazed**

Soundtrack: Maybe I'm Amazed by Paul McCartney  
(I've been listening to The Voice version by Terry McDermott)

During the remaining drive, there had been much discussion and concern over how the French hit squad had found them. There was equal concern over Jocelyn but not much discussion. Eliot kept a hand on her abdomen, keeping track of her breathing. Dexter checked her over his shoulder every chance he got, and Winger had difficulty looking away from her.

Dexter drove them to a bedroom community about 15 miles from the north edge of Portland, parked in the garage of a two story Colonial, and immediately took charge.

"Winger, you start a scan on the SUV. Make sure they're not tracking us. I'll take care of Jocelyn and then be back out to help."

Winger complained as the men got out of the vehicle, "You always get the fun stuff."

Dexter opened Jocelyn's door and lifted her into his arms. "It's called senority," he said, shutting the door with his foot. "Also, you can't be trusted with an unconscious woman."

"It was just the one time," Winger smirked.

Eliot grabbed his bag and quickly moved around the vehicle to open the interior door for Dexter. "You're coming with me, Spencer."

Eliot didn't care much for the man's tone, but nodded and followed. They walked through a mud room, into the kitchen. Dexter nodded at the wall and Eliot saw the light switch. He turned it on and Dexter motioned towards the refrigerator.

"There's a glass pitcher in there. Pour a big glass, stick a straw in it, and bring it upstairs."

Eliot watched the big man walk away and couldn't help but wonder about his relationship to Jocelyn. His stomach turned sour. Again. He dropped his bag, prepared the drink, and went to find the stairs.

He followed the pale glow of light up the stairs and into the southeast corner. Jocelyn was on the bed, still unconscious. Dexter was sitting on the edge of the bed, a tackle box and white towels at his feet.

Eliot sat the glass on the bedside table and looked at Jocelyn. Dexter was using a wet wash cloth to clean her face, giving special attention to the two cuts. Most of the right side of her face was bruised and swollen. Her hair was tangled and matted. Her lips dried and cracked.

Eliot examined Dexter's face as he cared for Jocelyn. Like any professional soldier, there was no emotion. Dexter glanced up and met his eyes for a moment.

"I'm not a threat to you, man," he said softly. "At least not _that_ way." Dexter put his eyes back on Jocelyn.

Eliot hesitated. "What does that mean?"

"I've known J for a lot of years," he said. "We have been through a lot of shit together. And I have never seen her as strung out as she has been watching your sorry ass." Dexter's dark eyes shot up at him for a moment and then returned to his work.

"I don't know what your story is or what kind of past you have with her, and I don't care. If you do _anything_ to push her any farther out on the ledge, I will remove you from the situation. You understand?"

Eliot gritted his teeth. "I got it."

"Good," Dexter replied. Eliot watched as the soldier façade faded from the man's face. The big man looked at Jocelyn and the corner of his mouth turned up in smile. "You need to wake up, J," he said softly. When she didn't respond he patted her cheek. "C'mon, girl, you know you don't want me to get creative…"

Her eyelids fluttered and she turned her face towards Dexter. When she spoke her voice was far away. "More creative than a sucker punch?"

Dexter gave her a full smile. "I told you to stay in the car."

"You gave me a concussion!" she objected.

He laughed. "You had a concussion long before I gave you that love tap."

She growled softly and turned her head towards Eliot. She studied him for a moment and then asked, "Winger?"

"He's untouched, as usual," Dexter said, pulling her attention away from Eliot. "He's checking the vehicle for trackers."

Jocelyn sighed. "Are we safe here?"

"For the time being," Dexter replied. "But you let me worry about that. I'm going to patch you up, you're going to drink some of my go-go juice and then you're going to sleep for at least 10 hours, you hear me?"

It took Dexter about 20 minutes to clean and bandage all her wounds. He said his goodnight and walked toward the door. Eliot found it easiest just to follow along.

Dexter stopped at the threshold and pointed back at the bed. "She has a concussion. Somebody needs to stay with her." He ran his eyes obviously over Eliot's face. "And you look like you could use some rest. Just remember what I said."

Dexter disappeared down the stairs muttering unkind things about Eliot's sorry ass.

Eliot turned around and surveyed the room. There was nowhere for him to rest except the full size bed or the floor.

"You've seen me naked," she said, not bothering to open her eyes. "You should trust me enough to lay in the same bed with me."

He didn't respond. He didn't move. After several long moments, she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Dexter and Winger will take care of us," she said. "Get some rest, Eliot."

He walked to the bed, kicked off his boots, and laid down on his back. He felt awkward in a way he hadn't since 7th grade.

He thought about all nights he couldn't sleep because he was caught up in her. He thought of all the things he had planned to say to her if he ever saw her again. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't force the words out.

"How's the headache?" he asked.

"Gone," she replied, sleepiness feathering her voice. "Dexter's punch did some good."

After a few silent moments, he asked "You really working for Arden Doyle?"

"No… not yet…"

He glanced at her. Her eyes were closed. "You planning on it?"

"Who knows what tomorrow will bring…?" she mumbled.

"What about Janvier?" he asked. "You knew more of his crew than I did."

"Never worked for Janvier…" her words were coming more slowly. "Met him through Mickey…"

His mind drifted back to all the nights spent alone. All the nights he wished he had her by his side, just like this. He thought about that until he heard her breath fall into the rhythm of sleep. He turned off the small lamp on the bedside table and turned over to face her.

He waited anxiously for his eyes to adjust. After a minute or so he was able to make out the contours of her face. He could see the movement of the sheet as she breathed.

"I've missed you, Jocelyn," he whispered.

He fought back the urge to touch her face. To run his fingers over her hair. To press his lips to hers.

"Missed you too…" she slurred.

He held his breath for a moment, fear tightening the muscles in his chest. Then he smiled and laid his arm across her body and curled his hand up over her rib cage. He stared at her until a deep sleep took him.

_Baby, I'm a man, maybe I'm a lonely man  
Who's in the middle of something  
That he doesn't really understand  
Baby I'm a man and maybe you're the only woman  
Who could ever help me  
Baby won't you help me understand_  
_~ Maybe I'm Amazed by Paul McCartney ~_


	4. Chapter 4 - Sweeter

**Four: Sweeter**

Soundtrack: Sweeter by Gavin DeGraw

Eliot hadn't slept that well for a long time. He woke up feeling good. Until he reached over for Jocelyn and realized she wasn't there.

He heard voices filtering up the stairs. He listened to them for a few moments. It didn't take long to recognize Hardison's animated cadence and Nate's precise pronunciations. It was more difficult to distinguish the female voices. Most likely Parker and Sophie were there too.

After a few minutes in the bathroom wishing he hadn't left his bag downstairs, he pulled on his boots and made his way to the main floor. He found them sitting around the dining table.

Four heads turned to face him

"Eliot! What the hell?" Hardison snapped.

Eliot frowned at Hardison. He looked toward the kitchen, searching for Jocelyn, but she wasn't there. He listened for the sounds in the rooms beyond and heard nothing.

"I smell coffee," he grumbled and moved toward the kitchen.

Sophie came to her feet and followed him. "Is it true?" she badgered. "You've been fighting for your life for the past month and you didn't tell us?"

He started opening cabinets looking for cups. "It wasn't anything I couldn't handle," he said.

Parker made a snorting noise. "Yeah, right."

"Seems to me that if Loki hadn't intervened we would be planning your funeral right now," Nate said.

Eliot choked down the unkind words on the tip of his tongue and grabbed the biggest cup in the cabinet. He turned to the coffee maker and poured.

"Where is Loki?" he asked.

"She was up early," Parker said.

"Had some things to take care of," Nate said.

He turned to face them. "And why are you all here?"

Sophie's mouth dropped open like he had slapped her. "Because you're in trouble! We're here to help."

Eliot looked into her eyes, "We're not a team any more. This isn't what we do," he said coldly.

Sophie set her jaw angrily and opened her mouth to respond, but Nate cut her off, "Jocelyn hired us." Eliot turned his eyes from Sophie to Nate. "We're getting the team back together, and we need you."

"We're calling it the three hitter job," Parker said with a child-like smile.

Eliot walked toward the table and Sophie followed, her arms crossed over her chest. "Three? Why three?"

Voices at the front door stopped their conversation. They all turned to look at it. Eliot set his coffee on the table and squared up to the door, putting his body between it and his friends.

The door opened, and Dexter walked in. He had a large white box in his hands and a scowl on his face. Two more people followed Dexter, but the big man's body blocked Eliot's view. He heard the soft murmur of Jocelyn's voice.

"Good, you're up," Dexter said, making eye contact with Eliot. "How you feeling?"

"Okay," Eliot replied. But he was distracted, still trying to figure out who the third person was. Male definitely, but not Winger. Eliot got a glimpse of dark brown, wavy hair.

Dexter set the box on the table and flipped open the lid. The smell of sugar overwhelmed Eliot immediately.

"Not the most health breakfast, I know…" Dexter said grabbing a pastry from the box, and looking around the table. "But please have some."

Eliot's view was clear now, and his attention was on Jocelyn not the pastry. The man with her… WITH HER… was Quinn! Eliot felt a tremor starting in his abdomen muscles.

Quinn had his arm wrapped around her, her body pulled against his. His head was turned down, a smile on his face, whispering something in her ear. She had one arm wrapped around Quinn's waist, her eyes were on the floor, but there was a smile on her face and a slight blush in her cheeks.

Eliot felt his entire body wince. It was like she had plunged a knife into his chest.

Just looking at Quinn made Eliot feel old and tired. Quinn looked young and healthy and relaxed. He was wearing an expensive gray suit with a cobalt blue dress shirt. His hair was cut short and styled so that it fell in waves around his face.

"Whoa!" Parker said. "Didn't see that coming."

Both Quinn and Jocelyn looked up; first in Parker's direction and then at Eliot. There was no emotion in Jocelyn's face, but she couldn't hold his eyes for long. She looked toward Nate. Quinn, however, examined him carefully with his eyes. Quinn squinted slightly, and tilted his head.

"You okay, man?" Quinn asked.

"Not especially happy about seeing you," Eliot responded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Quinn gave Jocelyn a squeeze and Eliot saw the pain from her broken ribs flash over her face. "Under normal circumstances, I'd say right back at you. But not with Jocelyn here." Jocelyn looked up at Quinn with a smile, and rested her hand on his abdomen. Quinn gave Eliot a wicked smile.

Eliot's stomach tightened and an odd weakness spread through his legs. He felt Dexter's eyes move between him and Jocelyn.

"You'd better take a seat, friend," Dexter whispered before walking toward the kitchen. "I'll be in the garage if you need me, J."

"Okay, thanks Dex," Jocelyn said.

Eliot studied Jocelyn. The swelling in her face had receded, the cuts were healing, and she had done a good job covering the bruises. Her hair was pulled up and knotted at her neck. She was wearing a black sweater, a pair of tan dress slacks, and a pair of boots. Despite the pain and fatigue he knew she was feeling, Jocelyn absolutely sparkled.

Quinn looked around the dining room table. "All the usual suspects, I see."

"Hey, we just watched that movie the other night," Parker said.

Hardison was sputtering. "You two…? You're… together?"

Jocelyn looked at Hardison and nodded. "A couple of months now."

"I… I can't believe it…" Sophie said.

"Me neither," Quinn said looking down at Jocelyn. He lowered his voice, "Never thought I would fall in love…"

Eliot's stomach lurched upwards. If there had been any food in it, it would now be all over Quinn's shoes. A sickening heat spread over his body, and his knees buckled. He felt a chair press into his back, and sat down in it as gracefully as he could.

It had gotten extremely quiet, and all eyes were on him. He looked across the table at Sophie. Her eyes were sad. He gave her a slight nod, thanking her for the chair. His back was to Jocelyn, and he was grateful for it.

"Are we sure he's okay?" Quinn asked softly.

"I'm fine," Eliot growled.

"Of course, he's fine," Nate said. He leaned back in his chair and waved his finger at the happy couple. "So, how did you two meet?"

Quinn gave a short laugh. "It's a funny story, actually."

"Only to you," Jocelyn said, an edge to her voice.

Nate steepled his fingers. "Tell us."

They spoke in near unison.

"He tried to kill me," she said.

"She tried to kill me," he said.

"Beg pardon?" Hardison said.

Eliot struggled with the chair, turning it so he could see them. Jocelyn was still holding on to Quinn but her body language had changed. All her muscles were tense and the smile on her face seemed forced.

"I was only acting in self defense," Jocelyn replied, tension building in her voice.

"Okay, yeah," Quinn said, looking down at her, "You were going to be one sweet paycheck…" he looked up at the others. "But when I saw her, I couldn't do it. Couldn't pull the trigger…" His eyes fell on Eliot. "You know what I'm talking about…"

"You tried to kill her?" Eliot spit out.

Quinn shrugged. Jocelyn wasn't smiling any more. "It was a helluva night," Quinn said. "Carved my initials right here…" Quinn touched Jocelyn's abdomen just above her right hip bone. Eliot gritted his teeth. He knew the knife scar Quinn was touching.

Jocelyn replied through gritted teeth, "I left you a few souvenirs too, didn't I?" She kicked the back of Quinn's left knee with enough force to make him buckle and lurch forward, breaking their embrace.

Parker laughed out loud. "This is just like Mr. & Mrs. Smith!" She playfully slapped Hardison on the arm. "We just watched that the other night!"

Jocelyn stalked towards the kitchen.

"You two…!" Hardison sputtered, "You were just playin' right then? Tell me you were playin!"

Quinn stretched his left leg gingerly, and smirked at Jocelyn's back. "Hey, thanks for not telling me about you and Spencer, doll. That was a fun surprise."

Quinn looked at Eliot and Eliot fought the urge to pound him. Mostly because his legs were still too shaky to get him out of the chair.

"So that story," Nate said. "It's true?"

Jocelyn returned to the dining room with a bottle of water. "Yeah. Bastard took a contract on me a few years back."

Quinn shook his head, walking towards her. "It was before I really knew you, doll. It was just business." He motioned at the bottle in her hand. "No water for your mister?"

The muscles in her jaw tensed. "Get it yourself."

Quinn laughed and headed to the refrigerator.

"I get it!" Parker said. "Three hitters! I thought it was for Loki and her team, but its Eliot, Loki, and Quinn!"

"Do we need to get somebody else?" Nate asked, looking at Jocelyn.

Quinn came back to Jocelyn's side, and opened a bottle of water. "Merc-con starts tomorrow, you know."

Jocelyn closed her eyes for a moment and then shook her head. "We don't have time."

"What about your team?" Sophie asked, motioning towards the garage.

Jocelyn shook her head. "Dexter pulls too much attention where ever he goes. And Winger… " she hesitated. "Well, he's just too damn young."

Nate came to his feet. "Okay, well, you guys were fairly convincing. Especially to people who don't know you. And the story of how you met will play well at merc-con. But you're going to have to be able to play it without… uhm…"

"Wanting to kill him?" Jocelyn asked.

"Yes," Nate replied.

"I'll work on it," she said.

"I know some acting exercises that can help," Sophie offered.

"Don't worry, doll," Quinn said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I'll grow on you."

Jocelyn drove her elbow into his ribs, and Quinn made a noise halfway between a grunt and a laugh. "Although, I guess not yet…" he said, stepping away from her.

"Why even pretend to be a couple?" Eliot asked.

Jocelyn looked at him. "Its merc-con," she said as if that explained it. "I don't want to spend all my time fending off Lotharios."

"Seriously?" he asked looking between her and Nate.

Quinn made eye contact with him. "Obviously you've never been to it." Eliot frowned at him and Quinn continued, "It's just like any other industry convention. People go to score some cool toys, score some new contacts, and flat out score. And being as fine as she is, I'm sure your lady is very popular…"

"I'm not his lady," Jocelyn said.

Quinn looked at her, a slightly surprised expression on his face. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Without a doubt."

Quinn looked at Eliot. "How about you? You sure?"

"Shut up," Eliot growled, coming to his feet. "How do I know that you're not here to cash in on the contract, Quinn?"

"Eliot…" Jocelyn said.

"That's a reasonable question," Quinn said, squaring up to him. "There are reasons why I haven't tried to cash in on that contract. But the only one that matters right now is that Jocelyn is paying me a pretty sum just to hang out at merc-con with her."

"It's not going to be _that_ easy," Jocelyn said.

Quinn looked at her and shrugged. "Can't be harder than trying to kill Spencer." A smile slipped over his lips, "Plus I get to be your husband."

Jocelyn rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

"Well, there's a few things you need to know about that," Nate said.

Quinn raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

"You might run into Jocelyn's ex, Mickey O'Mara, at the convention. And if you do, we're going to have to handle him in a creative way."

Quinn smiled. "This just keeps getting better."

Nate glanced at Jocelyn. "And you might get some direct heat from Janvier."

"Oh, you're breaking my heart, doll," Quinn said. "Janvier's an ex too?"

She shook her head. "No."

"But, he has shown interest in her in the past," Nate said. "Both professionally and… otherwise." Nate looked back and forth between Jocelyn and Quinn. "This whole thing hangs on you two being a convincing couple in love."

Jocelyn looked at Nate. "I know."

"You're sure you can do it?" Nate asked.

Jocelyn exhaled and turned and looked at Quinn. Then she looked at Eliot. Finally she nodded. "Yeah, I can do it."

Nate hesitated, studying Jocelyn's face. He turned to Quinn. "You sure you can be a convincing husband?"

"With her?" Quinn asked with a slick smile. "You bet I can."

Nate stared at Quinn for a moment and then waved a hand between them. "Sophie, see what you can do with them."

_I just want to take_

_Someone else's holiday_

_Sometimes the grass is greener_

_And someone else's sugar_

_Someone else's sugar sweeter_

_~Sweeter _by Gavin DeGraw~

**Author's note:** So, remember the warning about self-indulgent writing? I know literary triangles are over-used. But they're so much fun to write. And Quinn seemed like such a fun character in _The Last Damn Job_, I just had to give him some more play.


	5. Chapter 5 - Pretty the World

**Five: Pretty the World**

Author's note: Another little bit of self-indulgence… changing POV. Hope you don't mind.

Soundtrack: Pretty the World by Matt Nathanson

_All spun awake  
Twisted in the heat...  
You're always burning up so bright  
When there's someone there by your side.  
Well just take me home  
Cause I'm a mess enough clean  
And I'll lie  
Until I believe_

As Sophie led them upstairs, Quinn could feel Eliot's discomfort. It made him smile.

Jocelyn paused at the foot of the stairs, and Eliot spoke quietly, but Quinn's hearing was excellent.

"Can we talk?" Eliot asked.

Jocelyn didn't respond.

Sophie stopped at the top of the stairs and turned to look at Jocelyn. "Which room?" she asked.

Jocelyn looked at her and gave a vague wave to her left. Sophie nodded and went in that direction. Quinn followed her slowly.

"If you have questions about the job, talk to Nate," Jocelyn said to Eliot. "I've got… things… to do…"

Quinn heard her travel a few steps then stop.

"It's not about the job…" Eliot said.

Quinn entered the bedroom just as Sophie was opening the curtains. He could still hear Jocelyn's voice on the stairs but couldn't make out what she was saying.

"Oh dear," Sophie muttered, looking around the room. She pointed at the lone chair in the room. An overstuffed blue club chair that had seen its better days. "Could you be a dear and move that over closer to the bed?"

Quinn took off his jacket and found an empty hanger for it in the closet. He listened to the muffled sounds coming from the stairs. There was tension in her voice. And what sounded to him like desperation in Eliot's voice.

By the time he moved the chair, Jocelyn joined them. She closed the door, sat down on the bed, and scooted back until she was against the headboard. She looked at him and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked irritated. And tired.

Sophie looked at her. "Are you okay?"

Jocelyn nodded. "Just work your magic, Sophie. Teach me how to pretend like I'm in love with him," she frowned and waved a hand at him.

"Right, well… first, why don't you have a seat Quinn?"

He sat in the chair and kept his eyes on Jocelyn while Sophie talked. Sophie was going on about how important it was for them to be convincing. This he already knew.

He knew the whole job… hell, the lives of everybody on the team depended on the two of them being able to sell it. He'd done shit like this before and never had any problem. Pretending to be in love with this woman was not going to be hard.

Pretending to be a husband was a little more difficult. He didn't really "get" marriage. And the one time he donned the husband costume for a job, he swore he'd never do it again. But looking at Jocelyn, he knew he could pretend to be her husband.

The most difficult thing for him would be getting Jocelyn to like him enough to not blow their cover like she did earlier.

"Okay," Sophie was saying. "My recommendation is you start living this con right now."

Jocelyn made a face. "Ugh."

Sophie turned to her, "Okay, let's explore why that is so distasteful to you."

Jocelyn waved her arm angrily. "Oh, I don't know… maybe because he tried to kill me?"

"But I **didn't** kill you," he countered.

"Because I stopped you!"

Sophie's head bounced back and forth between them like she was watching a tennis match.

He gave a half-laugh. "C'mon doll. If I really wanted you dead, you'd be dead…"

"Quinn!" Sophie snapped. "That is NOT helping!"

"What?" he asked defensively. "I'm saying that when I saw her I thought she was the most extraordinary woman I had ever seen. I couldn't kill her."

Jocelyn frowned and shook her head. "The only reason you couldn't kill me was because I beat the crap out of you and you ran away."

He laughed. "You and I remember that night very differently," he said, basically borrowing a quote from a favorite movie character.

Sophie exhaled and angled toward Jocelyn. "Okay, the question isn't whether you believe that he couldn't kill you because he was so taken with you. The question is whether Melissa Hardy believes it." Jocelyn exhaled forcefully and looked at Sophie. "If you can't get past this, Jocelyn, you're going to remove yourself. Go on holiday. Send us Melissa Hardy. I have hope that we can convince **her** to fall in love with Quinn despite the fact that he tried to kill you… or her… or… Oh, whatever. You know what I'm saying."

Jocelyn stared at Sophie for several long moments. "Mel always was a stupid bitch. Look what she let Mickey do to her…"

"That's the spirit!" Sophie said, swinging her arm.

"What did Mickey do?" Quinn asked.

"Now," Sophie continued, shooting him a warning look, "an important part of playing a character is motivation. Let's explore both of your motivations in this relationship." She turned toward him. "Going with the idea that you found her so fascinating that you couldn't kill her, maybe you just pursued her…"

Quinn waved his hands, "Don't cast me as some hapless Romeo in a chick flick. I cannot pull that off."

Sophie put a hand on her hip. "Okay, what do you suggest? You two have this night where you try to kill each other. Your end goal is to marry her. How do you proceed?"

He thought for a moment. How would he have handled it? How _did_ he handle it?

"Well, first of all, you've got my goal wrong."

"Oh I do, do I?" Sophie replied, her accent sharper than usual.

"Yes, I found her fascinating…" He shifted his eyes to Jocelyn. "Irresistible really. But that only made me want to run away. I had to get as far away from her as I could."

"Hmmmm," Sophie said, sounding interested, "So what did you do?"

"I got out of the contract and made it my goal to forget her."

"Couldn't have been easy to get out of the contract," Jocelyn said. "Nolan wasn't an easy-going kind of guy."

"You know who had the contract," he said.

"I do my homework," she replied.

"Then you understand why I had to kill him."

She sat up a little straighter and leaned forward. "You're the one…?"

"I thought you did your homework."

She looked him over for a moment and then leaned back again. "No one knew who killed him… I just assumed Eliot took care of it."

"Eliot? Really? You two were together back then?" he asked.

"No."

He waited for her to elaborate. Why would Eliot take care of it if they weren't together? But she didn't explain. Finally he said, "Well, now you know."

They stared at each other for several long moments. He wondered if she realized the real reason he killed Nolan. It wasn't because Nolan wouldn't let him out of the contract. They had come to an agreement. He killed Nolan because it was the only way to keep him from killing her.

Sophie looked back and forth between them, like she was trying to understand something. Finally she put her attention on him. "So you revoke the contract in a most permanent way and then just plan on pretending it never happened?"

"Yep."

"And meanwhile my goal is to kill him on sight," Jocelyn said. "How does that figure into this character development?"

"Well, he's attracted to you," Sophie spoke slowly, obviously thinking as she went. "So… he runs into you somewhere unexpected… an airport maybe…"

"LAX," he said.

"I hate LAX," Jocelyn said.

"Me too," he replied.

"LAX then," Sophie said. "Quinn, you see her… sitting alone at a small table in some dark bar and that attraction flares. You're drawn to her like a moth to a flame. You know it's folly… you know she hates you, but you approach her anyway."

"Sure, I've got some time to spare," Quinn said relaxing back into the chair. "My flight just got delayed."

"And **my** motivation?" Jocelyn asked looking at Sophie.

Sophie brought her hand to her mouth, drummed her fingers lightly, thinking. "You're trying to escape something… a life decision to make? A bad love affair…? Death of a loved one…?"

Jocelyn nodded soberly. "A team-mate…" she hesitated, "a friend died on a recent job."

Sophie swept her arm towards him, indicating he should continue with the ridiculous fairy tale.

"Oh, yeah… I uh… buy two drinks and walk to her table."

Jocelyn looked at him and gave a slight smile. "Mel is stupid, but not _that_ stupid. She knows better than to accept a drink from you."

He nodded. "But she lets me sit at the table because she's looking for an escape…" he gave a slight smile.

"That's good," Sophie cooed. She moved over closer to Jocelyn and looked back at him. "Now he has your attention. He has helped you escape from the darkness of your friend's death. Can you look at him differently?" There was a pause as the women examined him. "He's being charming," Sophie said. "You can be charming, can't you Quinn?"

He leaned forward and put on a tight British accent, "Rath-er," he said.

Jocelyn smiled a little. "And funny?"

"Of course," he replied with a smile, "I'd be _motivated_ because I'd love to hear you laugh."

"And look at him," Sophie said. "He is rather easy on the eyes…"

Jocelyn ran her eyes over him and a flash of heat spread over his entire body. "Yeah, wow…" she said. "I hadn't noticed that before then. I thought about seducing him and leaving him for dead in some cheap hotel room…"

He grinned and nodded. "Nice. But you did neither."

She shrugged. "You missed your flight to stay there and talk to me."

"We had a lot in common," he replied. "I was enjoying getting to know you."

"You asked me out on a real, old-fashioned date for the next evening," she said. "I was caught off guard."

He nodded. "Dinner and a movie."

"We spent, what? Two weeks in LA?" she asked.

He nodded, "Living in separate hotels, spending every day and most nights together."

"But no sex," Jocelyn said making a stop sign with her hand.

"Why not?" Sophie asked.

"I was… scared," Jocelyn said, focusing on his eyes. "I was confused… too scared to be with you, but too attracted to you to let you go."

"And what about you?" Sophie said turning toward Quinn.

"Oh, I definitely wanted sex," he said with a smirk.

"Of course you did," Sophie said, "But what were you feeling?"

Quinn thought for a moment, considering the answer that would satisfy Jocelyn. "Happy," he said finally. "I had never been that happy. It made me stupid… YOU made me stupid," he said pointing a finger at her.

"How so?" Sophie asked.

"I bought her a ring," he said. "I'd never even considered getting married before and two lousy weeks with her and I'm down on one knee."

Jocelyn smiled. "I thought it was pretty extreme just to get me in bed," she said.

"But you said yes," he pointed out.

"Too stupid to say no."

"Stupid and happy," he said with a shrug. "Could be worse."

Sophie looked back and forth between them several times, displaying a small smile. Then she focused in on Jocelyn. "So, how comfortable are you showing affection?"

"Not sure," she said, staring at him. She pushed off the headboard, and slowly stood up.

She walked toward him so slowly it didn't seem real. He noticed every subtle move she made. The purse of her lips, the flow of her hands, the sway of her hips.

She was moving like a predator and he instinctively came to his feet. He felt threatened, but in a pleasant way. And his body reacted to her. His heart beat a little faster. His hands ached to touch her. His mind was already peeling away her clothing.

He was so caught up in imagining what she looked like and what he would do to her that he was totally unaware of her left fist as it raced toward his face. It connected with his right eye and his head jerked to the side.

Sophie let out a surprised yelp.

A tight throbbing started over his eye, but he didn't feel any blood. Downstairs he could hear footsteps moving toward the stairs. He turned his head slowly back to look at her.

"Thanks for pulling that," he said.

She gave him a wicked smile. "There. That helps."

She quickly closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. With a tiny hop, her legs were around his waist and his hands instinctively went to cradle her ass.

He smiled at her. "So, you're that kind?"

The footsteps, two sets, were almost to the top of the stairs.

Jocelyn looked in his eyes for a moment and then pressed her lips against his. There was a stirring in his boxers and he felt like a damned fool teenager. He struggled to think of something besides her. They were supposed to be pretending. She shouldn't be able to affect him so easily.

The door flung open, she closed her eyes and pressed her tongue into his mouth. They made no sound for a few moments, but Quinn could feel Eliot glaring at him, and it was more effective than a cold shower.

Ford cleared his throat. "Everything okay?" he asked.

Jocelyn continued to kiss him, but Quinn was tense and had trouble responding.

"Well, I thought everything was okay, but I guess Mr. Quinn is having some kind of problem," Sophie replied.

Jocelyn pulled away and gave him a curious look.

"Uh, yeah," Quinn said nodding his head toward Eliot and Ford.

"You're not an actor if you can't do it in front of an audience," Sophie said.

Jocelyn actually giggled. He looked at her. She was smiling. She was looking at him in a way she never had before. Playful, vibrant, and like she wanted something significant from him. Her green eyes were literally sparkling. He never wanted to lose that mental picture.

Suddenly the other people in the room didn't matter anymore. With his right hand, he tugged gently on the knot of hair at her neck. Her golden red hair fell over her shoulders, and he pushed his fingers through it until he cradled her head in his palm.

Then he kissed her. He kissed her thoroughly and this time she kept her eyes open. He kissed her until Sophie tried to interrupt. "Well, I think you have both graduated," she said. "With honors," she quickly added.

He reluctantly pulled away from her. She stared into his eyes and took a jagged breath. He had affected her too. He gave her his sexiest smile.

He heard heavy boots hit the stairs and assumed Eliot was storming out. He felt a twinge of emotion in his chest but wasn't sure if it was related to Eliot or Jocelyn. He decided it was best not to pursue it either way.

Ford came to Sophie's side, "You've still got it," he crooned.

Jocelyn put her feet on the ground and pointed at his eye. "I'd put some ice on that if I were you."

_I never thought that I could be who I am  
I never thought that I could see where I was  
I always thought that all this was just wasn't me  
I always thought that all this was could never be_

~Pretty the World by Matt Nathanson ~


	6. Chapter 6 - Collide

**Six: Collide**

Soundtrack: Collide by Dishwalla

Eliot sat on the deck in the dark. He was stretched out in a lounge chair, the remnants of a six pack and a bottle opener near his right hand, a gentle rain falling over his body.

He heard the sliding glass behind him. "What are you doin' out here?" Parker asked.

He held up a mostly empty bottle in response.

She moved closer. "Ah."

"Jocelyn back yet?" he asked.

Parker sat down on the lounge chair next to him, and curled up under the umbrella she was carrying. "No. Sophie told her and Quinn that they needed spend time together. Study each other. Fill in details. Stuff like that. I don't think they'll be back tonight."

His stomach burned. So he wouldn't get a chance to talk to her tonight. "Perfect," he said through gritted teeth. He finished the bottle and chucked it into the yard. Then he grabbed another and opened it.

Parker watched him in silence as he drank. He continued to stare forward into the darkness.

After several minutes he finally asked, "What do you want, Parker?"

"I want to know why you're so mad at us, Eliot. It was your idea to take a break."

He looked at her and considered his response. He realized that he really didn't know why he was so mad. Didn't know why he felt so betrayed by the entire team. Even Nate and Sophie. Didn't know why he was so angry. Except anger felt better than sadness.

And Jocelyn and Quinn were off spending time together.

"I'm not sure why I'm mad," he said finally.

Parker just stared at him, her eyes wide.

He took a drink. "As far as taking a break, I thought I needed some time to figure some things out."

"Did it work?" she asked.

He took another drink and shook his head. "No, not really.

She nodded her head like she understood. "Did you go see Aimee?"

He took a long drink before answering. "Yeah, I spent some time with her."

"And?"

"And, it wasn't what I was hoping it would be."

They sat in silence while he finished his beer. The rain became more insistent. Cold pushed through his alcohol induced numbness.

"You could have called, you know," Parker said. "We would have been here. We could have started running jobs again."

"Yeah, I know."

More silence as he finished his beer.

Eventually she asked, "Are you going to be okay, Eliot?"

He looked at her.

"Please say you're going to be okay."

He nodded, not really feeling it. "Yeah, I'm going to be okay."

She smiled. "Good. And we'll start up Leverage International?"

He nodded, not really feeling it. "Yeah, sure."

She stared at him for awhile and then stood up. "You want my umbrella?"

He shook his head and looked back out into the darkness.

She hesitated. "Okay, well, don't stay out here too long."

"Can't," he replied. "Almost out of beer."

She returned to the house and he could hear hushed voices on the other side of the sliding glass door. Nate, he thought, asking Parker about him.

He pitched the now empty bottle into the darkness and grabbed the last one out of the carrier.

They were all concerned about him. That was clear. He wondered if they thought he wanted to die like Jocelyn and her team did. Did they think he was depressed? Did they know that he was longing for Jocelyn and that having to watch her with Quinn was a special kind of hell?

He opened the beer and took a long drink.

He had convinced himself that the reason he couldn't commit to Jocelyn was because he was still in love with Aimee. When he reunited with Aimee, it was good. For awhile. But then he started thinking about Jocelyn. And once he started he couldn't stop. As the days passed, he had the sickening feeling that he'd made a huge mistake.

He had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but they really snowballed once Jocelyn left. He shouldn't have let her go. He shouldn't have run away from work. He shouldn't have run back to Aimee - he only ended up hurting her again. He should have called his crew when he realized people were trying to kill him.

"You're the only one that can make you happy, Eliot," he grumbled.

"Wise words," Nate said.

He glanced over his shoulder. Nate had stepped out onto the deck and Eliot hadn't even noticed. Eliot shook his head in disbelief. He was really losing it.

"Yeah, well, they're not mine."

Nate slid the door closed, pulled his hood up and stepped up beside the lounge. "Figured." After a few moments of silence, Nate said, "So, sitting out here in the rain drinking yourself numb... that make you happy?"

"Not particularly."

"Mmmm," Nate murmured as if he expected that answer. "Been dwelling on all the mistakes and regrets?"

Eliot only grunted in response.

Nate stepped forward and turned to face him. "How many months?"

"How many months what?" he asked, looking up at Nate.

"How many months have you been wallowing?"

"I haven't been..." he tried to object.

Nate cut him off. "How many months, Eliot?"

He gave a complaining grunt. "About a year now."

Nate nodded. "About the time you and Jocelyn broke up."

"Yeah."

Nate was quiet for a moment and then said, "Enough with the penance. It's time to move forward." Eliot just stared at him. "What do you want your future to be? What do you need to get there? Who do you want with you?" Nate paused for a moment. "Focus on the future. You're the only one that can make it happen."

Eliot was quiet for a moment. "More wise words?"

"Just speaking from experience," Nate replied.

Eliot finished his beer and set the empty back in the carrier. He looked up at Nate. "Was this con her idea or yours?"

"It's not really much of a con, is it?" Nate asked with a slight smile. Eliot just stared at him, waiting for more. "She contacted me. She had the intel about the contract and Janvier. She suggested approaching Janvier at Merc-con but was afraid to do it alone. She had no... leverage. We helped with that."

"And Quinn?"

"Quinn," Nate said with a chuckle, "She wanted arm candy. I contacted Quinn because of our past working relationship. Do you know what the odds are that they even knew each other? Let alone…" Nate made a vague arm gesture.

Eliot shook his head bitterly, "Yeah. Unbelievable."

He saw movement at the edge of his vision, and he reacted as quickly as the six beers allowed. He launched himself at Nate and knocked him to the ground.

Automatic weapon fire tore into the house.

Eliot rolled off Nate and grabbed the lounge by the leg. He swung it around to provide some cover. Nate turned over onto his stomach.

"Back in the house!" Eliot instructed. "Stay low!"

The assault continued, tearing into the lounge and knocking it over on him. He watched as Nate moved surprisingly quickly toward the door and knew he had to draw the fire away.

Eliot vaulted over the lounge and started running in a crouch. He heard breaking glass behind him. There was a brief break in the gunfire and then Eliot felt a bullet rip into his shoulder. He dropped and rolled and came within a few yards of the corner of the house. He came to his feet and he felt another bullet graze his calf.

The thought occurred to him that he might not make it.

A single shot sounded from the house and the night became starkly quiet. Eliot limped around the corner and headed cautiously towards the front door. Gunfire sounded from the front and Eliot dropped to the ground again. The gunfire continued, sounding like it was chewing metal. A car engine gunned, tires squealed, and a dark sedan sped down the street.

The gunfire stopped and footsteps approached. A huge form carrying a large gun appeared over him. Eliot looked up and was relieved to see Dexter looking down at him.

"You okay?" Dexter asked.

Eliot grunted, and got to his feet. "Is everybody else okay?"

"Yeah," Dexter said watching him. "They're fine. Looks like you took a few?"

Eliot snapped. "I'm tired of getting shot at!"

Dexter gave him a broad smile. "Eliot fucking Spencer," he said with an approving nod. "Nice to finally meet you."

_When I came here there was more  
Now I've come back to destroy  
And I've got nothing left.  
And it's a shame what we've become  
When we hurt the ones we love  
And it's a place I cannot go  
Anymore._

~Collide by Dishwalla ~


	7. Chapter 7 - Moment

**Seven: Moment**

Soundtrack: A Moment Changes Everything by David Gray

Since they had gotten out of Eliot's reach, things kept getting better. They drove back to Portland and checked into a nice hotel within walking distance of good food and entertainment.

They spent some time shopping, including picking out wedding bands. They enjoyed a few hours at a somewhat famous independent bookstore discussing their favorite books.

It was her idea to re-create their supposed first date by seeing a movie and going out for dinner. She seemed surprised at his choice of movie. A drama starring a pair of lesser known actors that had more Oscar buzz than Angelina Jolie's dress. It was difficult to concentrate on the movie though when he could feel her watching him.

After the movie they stopped for supper at a restaurant near the hotel. The prices and type of food made it somewhat exclusive. The atmosphere was dark, quiet, and not overly crowded. He had to give the maître d a large tip to get the curved booth in the corner, but it offered the privacy they needed. They sat close to each other on the purple velvet seat, her left knee touching his right.

They ordered their meals and the wine steward served them a cabernet sauvignon and left them.

She held his eyes as she took a few drinks. "Very good," she said. "I'm a fan of wine that feels like velvet."

Her voice had softened over the course of the day, becoming increasingly sensual. And it seemed that every other comment she made had him thinking about sex. His eyes were drawn to her mouth... her lips. He exhaled and looked back up to her eyes.

They made small talk until the waiter delivered their salads. After a few bites, she gave him a coy look. "In all my research I was never able to find a first name on Mr. Quinn," she said quietly. "What am I supposed to call you?"

He shrugged, "Pick one."

She ran her eyes over him for several moments. "I think you look like a… Beau."

He nearly choked on his salad. He snapped his eyes to hers, to see if it was just a coincidence. A slow smile spread over her lips and there was nothing sensual about it. It was not a coincidence. She knew his given name. Anger started to burn in his stomach.

She leaned a little closer to him. "Beau Robert Harris," she whispered. "February 5th, 1980."

He set his fork down and turned his body to her. "I thought you were on holiday, Jocelyn."

"Oh this is feeling quite like a holiday now, Beau."

He gave a tight laugh and took her left hand in his right. "You have to stop calling me that, love," he said through gritted teeth.

Her hand felt small in his and he considered applying pressure to it to make a point. But then he had a better thought. He returned her smug smile and pulled her hand towards his mouth.

The smile slipped off her face as he put his lips on her hand and held them there. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm. He used his left hand to sandwich hers, and then turned it over to stroke her palm.

She set her jaw. He smiled. "Have I told you how much I love you?" he cooed, placing a wet, sloppy kiss on her palm. He saw her right hand grip her fork with new purpose, and he kept his eyes on it as he moved his lips to her wrist. "I'm going to tell you with kisses."

He pushed the sleeve of her sweater up, and left another sloppy kiss on the inside of her forearm. She brought the fork up slowly. "Careful, doll," he whispered. "Is Eliot's life worth you stabbing me with that fork?"

He could actually feel the tension in her body, and he smiled against her skin. She exhaled quietly but forcefully. Then she set the fork on the table and turned her body to him. She raised her right hand towards him and he waited for the slap. But instead she put her hand on his face and lifted it from her arm.

She pulled his face toward hers. "Tell me," she breathed, her voice cloaked in sex. And she kissed him. She kissed him slowly, purposefully. She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it firm and tried not to pay too much attention to what she was doing with her tongue.

She ended the kiss by applying pressure to his bottom lip with her teeth. She rested her forehead against his. "Tell me, Beau…" she whispered.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes feeling like he was caught in some weird game of chicken.

"Tell me what kind of egomaniac your father is to attach his name to both you and your older brother," she whispered. But there was no evil smile this time. "Robert Junior and Beau Robert…" Her eyes had changed - they weren't as easy to read. The smugness was gone, and he didn't recognize what was left in its place.

He made a purely sexual sound in his throat and moved his left hand to her waist. He wrapped his fingers around her hip bone and applied light pressure. "I can tell you," he whispered, "that if you keep at this game you're playing, I will have you before this night is over."

She sucked in a breath and gave a soft moan, "Tell me, Beau..."

He reacted to her moan like she had just set him on fire. But his desire for her was clouded with anger and he didn't know what to do with it. And then there was confusion. Was she toying with him or did she really want him? He leaned forward and kissed her neck, just under her ear.

"Yes," she whispered, bringing her free hand to the back of his head. He moved his lips down her neck slowly. "Tell me," she continued, "Why you didn't go into Daddy's business like your brother… "She dug her fingers into his hair and yanked his head back so she could look in his eyes. "Too cutthroat for you?"

He snarled softly, and moved his hand to her throat. "Getting in bed with 70 year old senators is a real turn off for me." He wrapped his fingers around her throat and applied pressure.

She gave him a sexy smile and lifted her head slightly, "Tell me, Beau…"

His mind spun between anger and lust. "I will eat you for breakfast, Jocelyn," he growled.

The waiter cleared his throat as he approached with a tray. Quinn tried to push the anger away and channel the lust. He smiled at her as gently as he could and let his hand slide suggestively down her torso. He looked at the waiter. "Sorry. Newlyweds."

The waiter gave an awkward nod, served their food, and disappeared fast. Quinn looked at her for several moments, but she was focused on her food.

Anger rolled through his stomach and he cut into his medium rare filet. He chewed several bites while keeping his eyes on her. She took a small bite of her fish, but mostly pushed the vegetables around the plate.

"So what's your point, Jocelyn?" he asked finally.

She looked at him. There was a shadow of emotion on her face, but again he couldn't interpret it. "Knowledge is power."

He shook his head angrily, "Do you have any idea how big a liability you are to me now?"

She cocked her head, "Like I wasn't before?"

He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. "Huge, HUGE liability," he grumbled and took another bite. He swallowed it quickly. "And speaking of liabilities, you need to tell me what is going on with you and Eliot."

"Uh… don't think so," Jocelyn said shaking her head.

He set his fork down and turned to her. "Oh, yes," he said forcefully. "Any past you have with him is a liability that jeopardizes me, you, and this whole job. We could run into any number of people that know about you and him and could bring our little house of cards down. I need to know more."

She set her jaw, exhaled, and set down her fork. "Fine. Eliot and I met in a torture chamber in Russia about nine years ago and have been watching each other's backs ever since. The last time we worked together, we uh... started a..."

He found it funny that she was stammering. "Yeah, right, sex, got it."

She scowled at him. "Not just sex... a relationship. We lived together... and I thought..."

"You thought what?"

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. It didn't work out."

He studied her. "Did you love him?"

She turned away from him and closed her eyes giving the impression she was in physical pain. "He's the only man I've ever loved," she said wistfully.

He waited for her to say it, but when she didn't, he said it for her. "You still love him."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, "I came out of retirement to help him. What do you think?"

"I think you're insane, but not just for loving Spencer," he replied. "Why did you two break up?" She gave a feeble shake of her head. "Tell me, Jocelyn."

She gave him a cold glare for a few moments. "It wasn't just one thing... it just didn't work out."

He shook his head. "Not buying it, doll. There may have been lots of things wrong, but something was the source."

"That's right," she snapped. "You studied psychology at Harvard."

He shrugged. "It came easy. I didn't want to be wasting my time studying." He gave her a moment to respond, but she didn't. "And you're not steering the conversation back to me. Why did you guys split?"

She exhaled. "He wasn't happy."

He considered that. "How do you know? He always has the same look... I mean... what would a _happy_ Eliot Spencer look like?"

She was quiet for a moment as if she were thinking over what he said. "I couldn't with him like that."

"So you were the one that left," he said. She nodded. He studied her eyes for a moment. "And now he's realized he shouldn't have let you go."

She studied his face. "Why do you say that?"

He snorted. "Seriously? You can't see it?"

She tilted her head. "Tell me, Beau."

The words sent a small thrill through him. He pushed it aside. "Oh, I don't know… the way he acted when he first saw us together? The way he looks at you? The way he always wants to 'talk'?"

She was quiet for a moment and then shook her head. "I can't talk about this anymore..." her voice cracked and she looked away from him.

"How long ago did you leave him?" he asked.

She made a quiet sniffing noise. "About a year ago."

"And you're still **this** emotional?" he asked. "Over Eliot Spencer?! Guy must be a genius in bed or something."

He grabbed his wine glass and as he drained it he wondered if a woman had ever felt that way about him. He shook his head and poured a fresh glass.

"Well, start paying attention, woman. Because it's clear that he wants you back." He swirled the wine and thought. "Wait, strike that. Pay attention to everything **except** Eliot Spencer." He looked in her eyes. "You need to forget about him until this job is over. You need to get back to focusing on me. _Nicolas_ Quinn. Your new husband."

She stared into his eyes for a few moments and then nodded. "Right." She took a deep breath and the muscles in her face relaxed.

He motioned toward her wine glass with his head. "Finish your wine, Mel. I'll pour you another."

They spent the rest of the meal more amiably, going over necessary details for their cover. Where had she gone to school? What was his family like? What did they like to do together?

On the walk to the hotel he asked about Mickey O'Mara. Much like Eliot, she was reluctant to talk about O'Mara. But after he heard the story, Quinn realized she was reluctant for a whole different reason.

O'Mara victimized her in a way that no other torturer had. Emotions were involved. She said she had only ever loved Eliot, but she must have had some kind of feelings for O'Mara - she had agreed to marry the bastard. That kind of betrayal had to affect her. She was angry at herself for letting it happen, and it most likely had an impact on her relationship with Eliot.

She claimed she left because Eliot wasn't happy. But he suspected she was as broken as Eliot was.

Her phone rang. She checked the IDss and answered it. "Hello... yeah, Dex... what?!" She stopped walking and looked up at him and he saw fear flash over her face.

He looked around. He hadn't been paying as close attention to their surroundings as he usually did. Examining people and vehicles, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Shit...! Is everybody okay...?" She closed her eyes and exhaled.

They were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, people going around them on both sides. Quinn wrapped his arm around her shoulders and guided her towards a storefront. He left her so she could look into the store window, her voice less likely to carry, and he turned to watch their backs.

"Okay... okay... good... yeah... let me know if anything else happens."

He was surprised when she slipped herself under his arm. "We okay?" she whispered, her eyes scanning the area.

He took one last scan and started walking. "Seem to be," he said. "What's going on?"

"Another attempt on Eliot," she said. "A hit squad showed up at the safe house."

"Everything okay?" he asked, still scanning for potential threats as they neared the hotel.

"Yeah, I guess... they're spending the night at another safe house. One Parker and Hardison had set up."

He looked at her face. She was rattled. She had debriefed him on the previous attempts on Eliot. He knew she was concerned about how Janvier's team had tracked them the previous night. And now she was concerned about how somebody had found her safe house. He thought it through.

"Is it possible one of your guys is selling you out?" he asked.

She exhaled. "Anybody can turn," she said. "But they would be putting themselves in as much danger as the rest of us."

He thought for a few moments. "It would really suck to walk into a meeting with Janvier and find one of your guys sitting there on a stack of cash."

She frowned at him. "It would really suck to walk into a meeting with Janvier and have you stick a knife in my back."

He smirked. "Point."

"Not sure who I can trust at this point."

He gave her a friendly squeeze. "Don't you love this business?" She gave a quiet growl and dug her fingers into the muscles just above his belt. He arched his back and gave a short laugh.

She gave him a curious look. "Ticklish?" she asked.

"Only for you, love."

_The stolen glances, broken threads  
The visions looming in our heads  
The years spent running parallel  
To everything that might of been  
No longer possible to hide  
The feeling welling up inside  
Ain't never been this close before  
Ain't never felt so far away_

~A Moment Changes Everything by David Gray ~


	8. Chapter 8 - Convergence

**Eight: Convergence**

****Author's note: I cannot figure how to gracefully separate the different parts of this chapter in this editor... sorry it's kind of clumsy, having to label the scenes.

_Scene One_

Soundtrack: Feel Again by OneRepublic

Quinn sat down in the plane seat. "Thanks for booking first class, love," he said, putting his hand on her thigh and squeezing.

She turned to look at him, and she looked as tired as he felt. "Used your credit card, baby."

He gave a brief laugh and leaned in for a quick kiss. "You're the best."

As he leaned back into his seat he watched her reaction - it was the first show of affection without malice he had attempted. She smiled and then put her eyes back on the paperback in her hand. The cover was dark with a menacing looking man in hat and long coat carrying a staff. A blurb labeled the author as "the dean of contemporary urban fantasy". Whatever that was.

He glanced past her and out the window. He hated sitting in a plane on the tarmac.

He envied Eliot again. Eliot didn't have to wait on the tarmac. Eliot, Ford, and Devereaux and the two guys from Jocelyn's team had made the flight to Vegas early that morning on the company jet. They were probably already set up at the new location.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn't slept well. Normally he wouldn't even try to sleep on a flight, but Jocelyn was there. Maybe he could catch a nap.

He considered why he had such a difficult time sleeping the night before. Things had gone well enough for the remainder of their evening. They stayed in their Nick and Melissa characters all the way up to bed time. Then as clothes started coming off things got awkward. Then she insisted on sleeping with a weapon. She still didn't trust him. And maybe that bothered him a little bit and kept him from sleeping well.

Or maybe it was having a warm, curvy female form lying next to him that kept him awake. She was an attractive nuisance. An unnecessary distraction.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind, but a familiar voice sounded behind him. There was some kind of commotion in coach. He opened his eyes, turned his head, and looked down the aisle.

He saw a very average man with dark hair and beard wearing a retro t-shirt and carrying a messenger bag complaining to a flight attendant. He watched the man for a moment, trying to determine if his appearance was just a coincidence.

Quinn shook his head, "It's officially a circus now that the freak show is in town."

_Scene Two_

Soundtrack: Bright Lights Bigger City by Cee Lo Green

Hardison was talking as he approached. "I don't know what happened, babe, but it's a short flight."

"I see you saved me a seat," he said, pointing at the empty seat between Hardison and Parker. He waited for Hardison to look at him before releasing a patented Chaos smirk.

"You...?! You're responsible for this?" Hardison snapped.

"Ewww! Are you stalking us or something?" Parker asked.

He smiled at Parker. "You are very stalker-worthy. But this guy," he said, jamming a thumb very close to Hardison's face, "Not so much. No, like any professional in our field," he gave Hardison a condescending frown, "I check the flight before boarding. When I saw a couple of aliases I recognized, I did a little musical chairs thing." He focused on Hardison again. "You should probably thank me for not bumping you from the flight altogether."

"The only thing I'll ever thank you for is for curling up and dying," Hardison replied.

"Now, now," he purred, "Careful. You never know when you'll need my help again." He stared at Hardison for a moment. "Are you going to move or do you want me to climb over you?" Hardison crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at him. "Okay, have it your way," he said.

Chaos grabbed the rail under the overhead and put his left foot on Hardison's thigh. By the time Hardison reacted, Chaos had his right foot on his other thigh and was crouched in Hardison's face.

Hardison uncrossed his arms, put his hands on Chaos' ribcage and pushed him towards the middle seat. Chaos giggled maniacally, but held on to the rail and swung back into Hardison's space.

"Stop it! I'm ticklish!"

"Sir! Sir!" a flight attendant said, approaching quickly. "Please, sit down."

He stopped giggling and released the railing with one hand long enough to point at her. "If you people put more leg room in these things, I wouldn't have to do this!" He said a little louder than necessary.

He put his hand back on the rail and swung his body out towards her before swinging back and landing in the middle seat. He took his time turning around, taking tiny steps and hitting Hardison with his bag twice.

"Sir, please, feet on the floor," the flight attendant begged.

He ran his eyes over her as he slid his feet to the ground. "Listen, sweetie, if you're interested in a threesome," he leaned into Parker and circled his finger from Parker to himself and then to the flight attendant, "Just say so. No need to make up ridiculous excuses to come see us."

There was a new kind of edge to the flight attendant's voice when she continued, "Sir, you need to control yourself or you will be escorted off this plane."

"Yes, that!" Hardison said, pointing his finger at the flight attendant. "We vote for that."

"Yeah," he said with a sneer towards the flight attendant, "I'd like to do that, but I have a medical condition that makes it impossible. And I know my rights! I'm protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act. If you escort me off this plane I'll sue the airline and you and your whole family!" He watched as the woman grew a few shades paler. He waved his hand toward the front of the plane. "Run along now. If I need you, I'll push the button."

As the flight attendant left in a huff, Hardison said, "You know there's marshal a couple of rows back, right?"

He turned to Hardison and smiled. "Of course I do. It's my goal to get taken off this plane in flex-cuffs. And I'm taking you and Parker with me."

_Scene Three_

Soundtrack: Needing/Getting by OK Go

Quinn thought it was pretty funny when Chaos got escorted off the plane in Vegas by a marshal. But Hardison and Parker not nearly as funny. And when Jocelyn called Ford, it was clear Ford wasn't pleased. Quinn wondered if Ford ever felt like he was working with kindergartners.

Quinn was glad his only responsibility this time around was hanging out with Jocelyn. Of course, hanging out at the Mercenary Convention was wrought with danger. As was spending time with her.

Suddenly sitting in the Bat Cave watching Hardison and Chaos slap fight didn't seem so bad.

They checked in to the Aria, grabbed a quick lunch, and got their registration materials for the conference.

Janvier had all kinds of front companies to hide merc-con behind. This year it was advertised as a financial services convention. The software booths were the black hats with all the newest tech gear. The insurance companies were really selling the latest weapons and tools. The banks dealt in information. The investment firms were contractors. And the registration packets included highly secure digit keys that would allow participants and vendors to interact.

50% of the people at Aria were mercs and vendors. Another 20% were undercover law enforcement looking for a way in. A large part of the fun at merc-con was being able to so openly thumb your nose at law enforcement.

They strolled through the exhibition hall, stopping at a few vendor tables and picking up give aways. They spent a good deal of time near security cameras and personnel, in an attempt to get Janvier's attention.

They got attention, all right. But not Janvier's.

"Mr. Quinn," a voice sounded from behind him. Quinn turned, keeping Jocelyn on his arm, and faced the man.

"Sterling," Quinn said with a nod. Sterling had been the source of several sizable paychecks. Even after he joined Interpol.

"Sterling?" Ford choked over the comms.

"You working in financial services now, are you?" Sterling asked.

He forced a smile and gestured towards Jocelyn. "Just along for the ride. This is my wife's thing, not mine."

Sterling raised an eyebrow. "Wife, eh?" He looked at Jocelyn.

She gave Sterling a warm smile and released Quinn's arm to extend her hand to Sterling. "Melissa Hardy."

As Sterling shook her hand, a sly smile spread over his face. "Please, Quinn," Sterling said, glancing at him and then back to Jocelyn, "You have about as much chance of marrying this woman as I do."

Quinn was more than offended by the statement.

Sterling stepped in closer to them. "I know what this is, and I know why you're here," he said quietly. Jocelyn pulled her hand away and Sterling focused on her. "And I know it's more likely that you're going to end up with Eliot Spencer than the likes of Quinn here."

"Hey!" Quinn objected.

"You see, Nate Ford and his team are something of a hobby of mine," Sterling purred.

Jocelyn studied Sterling for a moment and then leaned her head towards him. "What is it that you want, Sterling?"

"I want Arden Doyle."

She straightened up and gave a quick shake with her head. "You don't want much."

Sterling smiled. "And I think you can give him to me, Jocelyn"

"How do you figure that?" she asked.

"I hear you work for him."

She gave a short laugh. "Arden Doyle is a myth."

Sterling shrugged. "Rumor is that he's here. At merc-con."

She sobered suddenly. "I can't help you."

"Oh, I hope that's not true. Because if I can't bring Arden Doyle to justice, then I'll have to start looking for someone else to feed to my bosses." Sterling pointed a finger at her, and then smiling, slowly moved it to Quinn.

Sterling took a few steps backwards, still facing them. "I'll be in touch."

"Son of a bitch..." Eliot growled over the comms.

Quinn watched Sterling disappear into the crowd. "Can I kill him?" he asked.

Jocelyn put her hand back on his arm and moved them toward a booth.

"How did he hear that rumor?" she asked. "It's been out less than 48 hours!"

"Nate, tell me you've got a plan for Sterling," Hardison said.

Jocelyn let out a long exhale.

"Yes, it's just like the one for getting you two out of custody," Ford snapped.

Quinn watched Jocelyn. She seemed so calm when Sterling was harassing her, but now she looked a little pale. Quinn put his hand over hers as it rested in the crook of his arm. When she looked up at him he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. "We're already neck deep… what's a little more?"

He smiled. "How about we go get a drink?"

"Mmmm, I was thinking of hitting the gym…"

"Really?" he made a face.

"But I could go for a drink after that."

"Okay, well, I'll save you a barstool."

There was a deep, rumbling growl over the comm. "Damnit, Quinn, you watch her back," Dexter said.

He made a scared face at her and mouthed, "Yikes!"

She laughed, and he liked the sound of it. "He was kidding, Dex."

"Melissa…?" a man in with a French accent spoke behind them. They whirled around together to face him.

"Geez, doesn't anybody just approach from the front?" Quinn snapped.

"Not at the con, Monsieur Quinn," the Frenchman said with a slimy smile. He turned his attention to Jocelyn.

"Bon jour, Henri," she greeted the man stiffly.

He nodded his head to her and held out an envelope. "Monsieur Janvier would like for you to attend his dinner this evening."

She took the envelope and opened it. Henri waited patiently, his eyes focused on Jocelyn. Quinn sized the man up. He didn't seem like muscle… more like a lackey or servant.

She read the invitation, looked at the man and nodded, "My husband and I will be there."

The man glanced at him. "It is a formal occasion," Henri said moving his eyes back to Jocelyn. "Monsieur Janvier said that he has some gowns that would fit you if you'd like to stop by the penthouse this afternoon."

She shook her head. "Send my thanks, but I brought a gown."

"Very well," Henri said with another nod. "We look forward to seeing you tonight."

They watched Henri leave. They looked at each other. "Can we get out of here before some other creepy guy sneaks up on us?" he asked.

On the way back to the room, he tried to talk her out of going to the gym, but it didn't work. He changed and reluctantly followed her to the hotel gym.

The gym was not busy. A man in his late 20s with dark hair and plenty of muscles was running a circuit through some weight machines, and a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair was biking and playing with his smart phone. Each man paused from and looked them over. Quinn assumed they were there for the convention.

He did his best to keep his eyes off Jocelyn as she stretched out. She was very flexible and his mind started thinking about all the ways that would be helpful.

When she was done, she stared turned on a treadmill and started into a light jog. He reluctantly started the machine next to her.

"I hate running," he said, trying to get into a decent rhythm.

She looked at him. "Yeah, me too," she said half a smile.

The treadmills were positioned in front of a glass wall, giving a sweeping view of the strip. He wasn't a fan of Vegas, and would have been happier running into a wall of TVs set to ESPN.

He was in a full sweat by the time Hardison's voice came over the comms. "Uh, guys, you have company."

They heard the door open and Quinn looked to the glass to see the reflection of three large men. He glanced at Jocelyn. Her body was tense, her attention on the glass too.

After a few moments, a man's voice said, "Prison looks good on you, Melissa."

Quinn knew the story; knew the man could only be Mickey O'Mara.

Jocelyn hit the kill switch on the treadmill and Quinn followed suit. She grabbed her towel from the machine, stepped off it, and turned to face O'Mara.

Quinn, stepped off the machine on the opposite side from her, and turned to find O'Mara and two lackeys, one pudgy with dark, curly hair and the other sporting unflattering silver compression shorts.

The men were dressed as if they were going to work out, but Quinn knew better. O'Mara was there to get some kind of satisfaction. And his boys were going to make sure it happened his way. At least they were going to try.

The man on the bike was suddenly in a hurry to leave. The younger man on the weights stopped his work out and kept an alert eye on them.

"Mickey," she said, wiping sweat from her face. "I'm pretty sure I said if I saw you again I was going to kill you."

He smiled. "And I'm pretty sure the last time I saw you, you were in federal custody."

She took a few steps toward him and gave a shrug. "I worked a deal."

O'Mara chuckled. "Damn federal agencies are dirtier than I am."

Quinn matched her steps, moving closer to the three men. He wasn't concerned. He was pretty sure he could take the three guys on his own. And as he recalled, she was quite a fighter herself.

"Who's your friend?" O'Mara asked, nodding towards Quinn.

"My husband," she said.

O'Mara looked at him, a genuine look of surprise on his face.

"How you doin'?" Quinn said with a casual lift of his chin.

"Husband?" O'Mara laughed. "That's rich!"

Quinn glanced at her. "Nobody seems to believe you could land a catch like me."

She shrugged and flipped the towel in O'Mara's direction. "Understandable when you see the kind of trash I used to fall in love with." She stared at O'Mara for several moments. "Enough small talk, Mick. What do you want?"

"My pound of flesh," he said.

"Your pound of flesh?" she exclaimed. "I'll give you exactly what's coming to you!"

She threw her towel on the ground and exploded into motion, quickly covering the ground between her and O'Mara and launching herself at him. Quinn moved toward the pudgy man closest to him, but stopped a few steps short, amazed by Jocelyn's acrobatics.

She grabbed O'Mara by the shirt, jumped up and wrapped her legs around his neck. She twisted in mid air, making him change his direction, and then forced him to the floor all before he could even react. She continued forward, landing on her feet. O'Mara landed on his back with a curse.

Quinn had seen moves like that in the movies and on YouTube, but never in real life. He applauded. "That was beautiful, baby!"

Pudgy guy and tight shorts both lunged for her.

She dropped to the ground and spun several times, looking more like she was dancing than fighting, and swept the legs out from under both men.

She popped up to her feet and squared up to O'Mara as he came to his feet.

O'Mara lunged for her with arms extended, but she jumped in the air and knocked both his arms away with one foot then kicked him in head with the other. He spun away from her.

Compression shorts was fast and back on his feet by the time she landed. He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her closer. She yelped and looked at Quinn.

"Oh, did you want my help?" he asked.

She frowned at him and then went to work on Shorty. Quinn approached Pudgy who was just pushing up to his knees. Jocelyn put her hand over the man's hand then spun around kicking him in the head with first her left foot and then her right. The man spun away from her, pulling her off balance.

She followed him, put her right foot on Shorty's shoulder and rode him to the ground. Then she kicked him in the ribs until he released her hair.

Quinn was feeling cheated. Pudgy was no challenge whatsoever. He punched Pudgy in the kidneys. The man cried out and fell onto his stomach.

O'Mara was headed back toward Jocelyn. Quinn threw a side kick into O'Mara's with his right foot, and O'Mara went airborne. Then Quinn buried his left foot into Pudgy's ribs, lifting him and turning him over onto his back.

O'Mara stumbled toward Jocelyn, grabbing her left shoulder. She put her left hand over O'Mara's and spun around, rocketing her elbow into O'Mara's temple. O'Mara released her and spun away.

Quinn dropped to the floor beside Pudgy, and maneuvered himself so that he could wrap his arms around Pudgy's neck in a sleeper hold.

Shorty grabbed at Jocelyn, and she became airborne again. Both legs were in the air and then suddenly she dropped one down on Shorty's collarbone. He yelled out a curse and fell to his knees. She landed gracefully, like a cheerleader, and delivered a right hook that knocked the man out.

Then she spun to face O'Mara as he closed in on her again.

The man in Quinn's grip struggled for the appropriate amount of time and then passed out. Quinn happily rolled away from him and got to his feet.

O'Mara rushed at Jocelyn and threw a right hook at her face. She blocked it, but he followed with left and made contact with her eye.

"Hey!" Quinn yelled at O'Mara. "Not the face! What's wrong with you?"

O'Mara sneered at him over his shoulder, and Jocelyn took advantage of it. She blasted O'Mara's right knee with a kick, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain.

A flash of pain registered in Quinn's knee. He remembering being on the receiving end of that move. It was a life changer.

O'Mara cried out and fell to his butt, wrapping both hands around his knee.

Jocelyn stepped within striking range. "You've made a big mistake, Mick," she snarled.

"Only brining two guys?" Quinn asked.

She glanced at him. "Not what I was thinking of, but that's a good one."

"Punching you in the face," Quinn said with a smug nod.

She gave him an amused look, and he thought he saw a smile slip over her lips. "Also, good, but the big one was not doing homework." She sobered and looked back at O'Mara. "Do you know who I work for, Mick?"

O'Mara just stared at her. "Do you?" she practically yelled.

"No," O'Mara replied shaking his head.

She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "Arden Doyle," she said.

O'Mara expression changed. "Is that his scared face?" Quinn asked.

"I do believe it is," Jocelyn replied. She grabbed O'Mara's chin. "You come after me again, Mickey, and I'll make sure you meet Arden."

She stared at him for a moment, then released his chin, and exploded a jumping roundhouse at his head. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.

She checked each man on the floor and then looked at the guy on the weight machine. "We going to have a problem?" she asked.

Quinn stepped up beside her and looked at the guy.

The guy gave her a smile filled with dazzling white teeth. "No problem. I'm just a fan."

She studied him for a moment and then retrieved her towel and water and started for the door.

He grabbed his water and followed her. "That was some cool shit, doll."

She glanced at him and flashed a brief smile. "I was studying in Rio before this all started."

"Doesn't it waste a lot of energy?" he asked as they hit the hallway.

She shook her head. "Just the opposite… it gets my energy flowing. I have more energy now than before we started fighting."

"Really?" he said raising an eyebrow. "Well, if you have extra energy then I can help with that."

She looked at him, a sly smile on her face. "I bet you could."

"Hey! You're still on comms, you know!" Eliot snapped.

Quinn laughed out loud.


	9. Chapter 9 - Like Something

**Nine: Like Something**

Soundtrack: Like Sugar by Matchbox Twenty

She walked into the bathroom wearing nothing but Victoria's finest and modest heels made of silver chain and rhinestones. He eyed the strapless silver bra that all but served her up and the matching silver panties. He ran his eyes over the massive bruises on her ribs, arms, and legs. He'd never seen a woman like that. It was a bit of a turn on.

She stopped at the counter and pressed her hips into it. He leaned back to check her back side.

"Hey!" she objected, turning to look at him.

He gave her his sexiest smile and hoped she didn't have that damn earpiece in her ear. "If you want me, just say so, doll. You don't have to keep throwing yourself at me like this. It's getting embarrasing."

"Oh," she said with mock surprise, "You mean you're not gay?"

He frowned at her.

She motioned toward the concealer in his hand. "I just assumed you were since you have your own make up."

"Following that logic you would be a lesbian because you hardly wear any make up." He put his attention back on his reflection in the mirror and to concealing the bruise she had given him. "I wouldn't need this if people would stop punching me in the face." He gave her a pointed look through the mirror.

She smiled like she couldn't stop it. "Ever think you might deserve it?"

He laughed. "Have _you_ looked in the mirror lately?"

The smile slid off her face and she looked to the mirror. She frowned and shook her head. "Asshole."

He smiled and took advantage of her distraction to look at her breasts again. "Him or me?" He admired the way her auburn hair moved over her skin as she shifted her weight.

"Both of you… hey!"

He brought his eyes up to meet hers in the mirror. He gave her the sexy smile again.

"Keep your eyes on your side!" she growled. But he saw the corner of her mouth turn up.

He focused on applying another thin layer of concealer. "If I'd know you were going to walk around nearly naked all the time, I would have asked for more money."

"I know, right?" she murmured, grabbing a small bag from the corner of the vanity. She unzipped it and pulled out a light green tube.

He watched her for a few moments as she fiddled with the make up. He shook his head. "What are you doing?"

"Same thing you are."

"Not hardly, doll." He put the lid on his concealer, washed his hands and turned his body to her. "Give me that!"

She blushed, hesitated and then handed the tube to him. He looked at it. "At least you've got some good product."

She laughed quietly. "Seriously, you're not gay?"

He exhaled, put some concealer on the back of his left hand, grabbed her chin with his right hand and angled her face so he could see the bruises better. He took a good look at the bruise O'Mara had given her, then at the faded one near her cheek. His voice was soft and husky when he spoke, "I never realized bruises could be so sexy before I met you."

He felt the heat move over her face with her blush. He smiled at her, then took his ring finger and pulled some of the concealer from his hand. "Always use your weakest finger when applying make up around your eyes, doll. The skin there is delicate. You don't want to damage it."

He dotted some of the concealer around her eye and started smoothing it out. He felt her eyes on him.

"You're totally freaking me out right now," she said.

He tried not to act interested. "Mmmmm?" He pulled some more concealer and applied it.

Her voice was soft and textured with what he hoped was lust. "You're so gentle… so good at… being gentle…"

His penis started flexing, and since he was only wearing boxers that was not a good thing. He exhaled and pictured Eliot standing in the doorway.

"Thought you did your homework on me," he said, not daring to take his eyes off the bruise he was covering.

"I did."

"Then how did you miss the two years I spent in Harvard's drama department?"

She gave a small gasp that started the flexing again. He looked at her. Her eyes were huge.

"How **did** I miss that?" she asked.

He pulled some more make up and applied another layer. "It was all about a girl, of course."

"Oh, of course," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

He looked in her eyes. "Her name is Olivia, and I bet you've seen at least one of her movies."

She laughed.

"I'm serious."

"Uh huh."

He had taken plenty of shit from his college buddies about working in the drama department. But the truth was that he always enjoyed putting make up on a woman. It was incredibly sensual. Unbelievably intimate. It was a sure thing.

And now here he was with this woman that he should have killed a long time ago… this woman that already knew too much about him… Why was he sharing this intimate part of himself with her?

He suddenly felt vulnerable.

"I stayed an extra year for her," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, that much at least is true. I do know it took you five years to graduate and daddy was not happy about it."

He studied her eyes for a few moments. He had been so surprised that she found out so much about him, but he never stopped to wonder how she got the information. She called him daddy. The trail of thoughts was more effective that picturing Eliot in the doorway.

The intimacy was shattered, but he felt even more vulnerable. Anger rumbled in his chest.

He exhaled and tried to focus on O'Mara's mark. "Yeah. Daddy wasn't happy."

He finished the new bruise without further comment and made quick work of the other bruise. The anger was building in him. He couldn't stop thinking about what she had done.

He put the concealer away and searched her bag for foundation.

She was watching him closely and seemed less comfortable than she had at the start. She seemed to sense the change in his mood. And that didn't help his anger.

"I can do the rest," she said softly.

"Nonsense," he snapped. He was surprised to find a foundation brush in her bag. "Would Van Gogh ask a common house painter to finish his work?" He pulled the brush out to emphasis his point.

Her only response was to study his face more carefully.

He shook up the foundation with more force than necessary and then squeezed some on the back of his left hand. He touched the brush to the edge of the make up and started carefully applying it over the bruised areas.

"So, tell me, Jocelyn... You go to all this trouble… get all this information on me… what was the plan?"

He focused on the make up as he waited for her quiet reply. "I think you know."

He pulled the brush away and looked into her eyes. "You going to kill me, doll? Let me help you save Eliot and then knife me in the back?"

She shook her head as much as his firm grip on her chin would allow. "No. I'm not going to kill you, Quinn."

He didn't miss that she didn't use his real name. "But that was the plan at one time?"

"Yes."

"What happened, Jocelyn? What changed your mind?"

She held his eyes for several moments before responding. "Your sister."

The anger burned out from his chest and into his arms and legs, making his hands shake. He threw the brush at the mirror and stepped quickly away from her before he hurt her. Two steps put his back against the cold marble wall. It wasn't far enough.

"Chloe," she said.

He wanted to wrap his hands around her throat. He made fists with them instead. She stared at him defiantly.

"Why her?" he asked, his voice trembling with anger.

"C'mon, Quinn. You know she was the logical target."

"Don't call her that!" he yelled, pointing a shaking finger at her.

Jocelyn paused for a moment. She didn't look scared. He wanted her to look scared. But she just lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows slightly as if he had just done something interesting.

"Your father is sadistic, paranoid, and a control freak. I probably could have seduced your brother, but he has all the charms of your father and in addition to being a US Senator. I didn't want any part of that…"

With every word she spoke, he felt a hot flash of anger inside his head.

"And your mother is an alcoholic that has her every waking moment controlled by your father…"

He wanted her to stop, but his brain was so engulfed in emotion that he couldn't even form words.

"You and Chloe were smart to distance yourselves…"

He closed his eyes and cupped the sides of his face with his shaking hands. It would be so satisfying to kill the bitch in a very intimate way. Right now.

She finally shut up.

He focused on his breathing and tried to find a rational train of thought. If he killed her now Ford probably wouldn't pay him for the job.

More breathing and the inside of his head cooled. If he killed her now Eliot would probably kill him as soon as he got the chance.

He gave a long, forceful exhale and focused his mind. His professional calm slid into place. He dropped his hands and opened his eyes.

She was watching him carefully, her body angled towards him and her arms held in a slightly defensive stance. And she was barefoot. Her sexy shoes were nowhere to be seen.

He wondered briefly how long he had been locked in his head. He gave her a cold, predatory smile as he pushed off the wall and took a step towards her.

"How did you do it?" he asked, hoping he looked as calm as he felt.

"Do what?"

"Get information from my sister?"

"I became her friend."

He took a step closer. "How?"

She took a step back. "She was taking self defense classes. I became her instructor."

Anger flashed hot again at the connection. "Caroline…?! You're Caroline?" he said through gritted teeth.

She nodded. He slowly reached out for her moving one hand towards her throat. She watched him but made no attempt to stop him.

"She wanted me to meet you…" he said. "There was a weekend I came to visit…" He wrapped his fingers around her throat. The muscles of her face tightened. Her body stiffened and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It was perfect," she said softly. "I knew exactly where you were going to be and when you were going to be there."

He pushed her backwards maximizing the distance between them. She put her hands over his, but didn't try to break their connection.

"So what was the plan? Long distance…" He jerked her forward until their bodies were touching. "Or in close?"

"Obviously I didn't…"

He applied pressure on her throat. "Obviously you thought it out," he growled. "What were you going to do?"

"Long range," she said, her voice strained. "As you came out of the pub."

"Smart call considering our previous night together," he said with a tight nod. "But not so good for Chloe, having her brother gunned down right beside her." He noticed her face was turning red from the pressure he was applying to her throat. He wondered why she wasn't fighting back.

"When did you back out?" he asked. "Were you there? Did you have me in the scope?"

She shook her head.

"What did you do?" he growled, applying more pressure to his throat. She actually sucked air a little.

"I left town," she squeaked.

"Why?" he growled. "All that homework… all that planning… all that time! Why would you just walk away?"

"Because of your sister."

He pushed her back until she hit the wall hard. She gave a small grunt of pain and sucked air more earnestly.

"I should have killed you three years ago!" he said.

"You **tried**," she countered.

He gave a bitter laugh. "I didn't try hard enough. And now you know my name and you used my sister for intel!"

Her hands were agitated on his and he knew she was getting ready to break his hold. He loosened his grip and she took a few breaths.

"I'd apologize to Chloe if I could, but I won't apologize to you," she said. "You brought this on yourself. You tried to kill me! And as far as I knew at the time I was still on your list."

"Oh, you're back on my list now, doll." He leaned in, putting his face close to hers. "I should kill you right now."

She narrowed her eyes. "You just wait for the job to be over, Beau. Then you do what you have to do."

He studied her eyes for a moment, noting every transition in color and texture. Then his eyes wandered over the other features of her face. Her slightly turned up nose. The high cheekbones. The smooth skin and the arrangement of freckles. The way her golden auburn hair was falling over the left side of her face.

He moved his hand slowly from her throat, and slid it around to the back of her neck. A shiver ran over her and she let her hands fall to her sides. He moved his fingers over her skin and her breathing changed.

His body reacted immediately. His brain tried to stop him. It made no sense. How could he go from literally wanting to kill her to wanting to make love to her so quickly? He moved his eyes back up to hers. They had changed, sharpened with what he hoped was desire.

"Would it be crazy for me to kiss you right now?" he asked, his voice heavy. "Kiss you for real?"

She studied his face for a moment and then lifted her hands and put them on his chest. "It would be wildly inappropriate."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said moving his lips to hers. He kissed her. He didn't have to think about his motivation, he just knew he wanted to kiss her. He kissed her until they were both out of breath.

He pulled away long enough to verbalize his intention. "I'm going to take you for everything you've got, Jocelyn."

She nodded, her breath short. "Do it!"

"I'm not just talking about sex," he said.

"I know," she whispered. She put her hand on the back of his head and pulled him in for another kiss.

Just as he moved his hands towards Victoria's finest, there was a loud knock on the outer door. "Room service!"

Quinn recognized Ford's voice and pulled away from her.

"Damn it!" she said, resting her forehead on his chest.

"I'm just surprised it's not Eliot."

_I'm starting to want you  
More than I want to  
This ain't my finest hour  
~Like Sugar by Matchbox Twenty ~_


	10. Chapter 10 - Eliot's Every

**Ten: Eliot's Every Breath**

Author's note: Thanks to the guest that left the comment about more Eliot. This is supposed to be about him after all. :)

Soundtrack: _Every Breath You Take_ by The Police (I've been listening to a fun version that was used in that old show Ally McBeal sung by Robert Downey Jr and Sting)

"You guys aren't on comms," Nate said as he pushed the table into the room.

"Still getting ready," Jocelyn replied.

The table came to a stop and Nate lifted the table cloth so he could climb out. He crawled out as gracefully as he could, but he felt their eyes on him.

"There he is!" Quinn said as if speaking to a child.

Eliot came to his feet and looked at them. They were a few steps from the bathroom; Jocelyn dressed in a hotel robe and Quinn wearing only boxers. They looked too comfortable with each other standing there half dressed. Eliot didn't like it.

"Can't exactly be seen, you know," he said.

"Question is why you needed to come here at all," Quinn said moving to the closet.

Eliot opened his mouth to respond, but caught Nate's hard stare. Nate didn't want him to come. Said he would be stirring up emotions that would only complicate the evening. He made Eliot promise to not interact unless absolutely necessary.

Quinn pulled a pair of black suit pants from the closet and stepped into them.

Eliot bit back his angry words and put his eyes on Jocelyn. They stared at each other for several moments. She looked unusually small and vulnerable in the fuzzy white robe. He felt a longing in his chest. He wanted to go to her and wrap his arms around her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He gave her a small smile and nodded his head. "Are you?"

"Dexter said you took a couple of bullets."

He shrugged. "Just flesh wounds. He patched me up. Are you okay?"

She made a face like she was surprised he asked. "You asking about Mickey? That was nothing."

He shook his head. "Asking about Quinn."

"Funny guy!" Quinn said moving back towards the bathroom. He paused near Jocelyn and put a hand on her shoulder. "Gotta finish your makeup..."

"Right," she said with a nod. She held Eliot's eyes a moment longer and then turned and walked into the bathroom. Quinn followed her.

And they closed the door.

Nate looked at him and raised an eyebrow. His stomach burned. Nate continued to watch him.

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not going to do anything."

"But you want to," Nate observed.

Eliot shook his head angrily and headed for the tiny refrigerator. He grabbed two over-priced beers and opened them with the tiny opener. He went to the balcony and stepped out into the early evening breeze. He left the door open so he could at least hear their conversation.

Eliot looked over the strip and tried not to think about what might be going on behind the closed door. He focused on the colors of the neon against the darkening sky. Listened to the sounds of people having fun. Paid attention to the taste of the beer. Felt the cool breeze move through his hair.

"Okay, team, so the plan tonight," Nate started talking to the still closed door. "Jocelyn, you get some time with Janvier and try to work a deal for the contract."

"Won't work," Eliot said over his shoulder.

"Probably not. But we have plans for that," Nate said.

The door opened. "He might deal," Jocelyn said. "But we won't like his offer."

"Also a possibility we have planned for," Nate said. "Quinn, you run interference for her. Watch her back."

"Can do," Quinn replied.

"While you're at the party we're sending Parker and Eliot to Janvier's suite to get a copy of everything on his computer," Nate continued. "He's got to have something useful on there."

There was a knock on the door. Somebody opened it and Sophie came in with her usual enthusiasm.

"Did you talk with Doyle?" Nate asked.

"Yes, of course."

"You seriously met with _Arden_ _Doyle_?" Quinn asked.

"Yes. We're old friends," Sophie replied. "And he's fine with us representing him. He actually thinks it will be good for business."

"That depends on the outcome," Jocelyn said.

"Just like that?" Quinn asked. "Arden Doyle is okay with us… uh…?"

"Representing him," Sophie said with a nod.

"Say his name one more time and you'll summon him right here," Jocelyn said.

"We're not going to owe him a favor or something?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, probably," Nate said. "But we'll worry about that later."

"Oh, is that the gown you're wearing tonight?" Sophie asked.

Eliot looked over his shoulder. He recognized the gown.

It was a classic sheath-like gown of satin and tulle. It was silver at the shoulders and elegantly shifted through gray shades finishing in a deep metallic gray at the bottom. It was modest, didn't show too much skin, but clung to her body in all the right areas.

He vividly remembered each of the five times he got to take it off her.

"Yes," Jocelyn replied.

"Well, that is lovely for say a state dinner, but this is Vegas! I'm sure we could find something more… intriguing in one of the shops."

"No time for shopping," Nate said.

"And it's a good thing," Quinn said.

"Beg your pardon?" Sophie said an indignant tone in her voice.

Eliot turned so he could see them.

"_That_ gown," Quinn said pointing at Jocelyn's dress, "on _that_ woman," he pointed at Jocelyn, "is going to be enough for me to handle. You put anything more _intriguing_ on her and I might not have enough macho to keep all the wolves at bay."

Eliot was surprised that Quinn understood the perils of Jocelyn already.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sophie said. "We need to capture Janvier's attention. A more fetching dress will help…"

Quinn turned and looked at him. "Eliot?"

Eliot stepped into the room. "Quinn's right. That dress will be fine."

"Time," Nate said, impatiently tapping his watch. "Let's just get dressed and get going. Eliot?" Nate pointed at the table and pulled up the cloth.

Eliot finished one beer as he approached the table. He stopped near Quinn and handed him the empty. "Thanks for the beer and the laughs."

"No problem," Quinn said, his eyes still on Jocelyn's dress.

Eliot climbed under the table with his beer.


	11. Chapter 11 - Eliot's Part Deux

**Eleven: Eliot's Every Breath, Part Deux**

Author's note: I nearly lost this chapter twice! So thought it was best to just go ahead and post it while I've got it. And a casting note: In my head, Janvier is played by Michael Vartan.

When she walked into the ballroom, all eyes were on her. He couldn't tell it from the surveillance cameras that Hardison was using. Their span of view was limited.

No, he knew all eyes were on her from experience. It was always that way with her. And especially in that dress. To make matters worse, Sophie had fixed her hair. It was elegant and eye-catching, pulled up on one side and accented with a spray of rhinestones.

He watched them for 90 minutes as they ate, drank, and acted like husband and wife. He listened to the droning music coming from the small orchestra. He listened to their meaningless small talk and their occasional direct comment to Hardison or Nate. He shared their impatience when the clock neared 11:00 and Janvier still hadn't made an appearance.

"This whole thing is ridiculous," Jocelyn said.

Quinn chuckled. "You're going to have to be more specific."

"Mercs and hitters dressed up and pretending this is normal..."

Quinn laughed. "I don't know what kind of ghetto jobs you've been taking, but a majority of my work revolves around events just like this."

"Don't need to know that, Quinn," Nate said.

Now Jocelyn laughed.

"And you had the dress," Quinn said, "So you must have done this kind of thing before."

"I guess that's the thing," she said. "It's one thing to do this as part of a job, but this is supposed to be real life. It doesn't feel right to me in this context."

"Hey! This IS a job," Eliot growled.

Nate, Sophie, Parker and Hardison all turned to look at him. Nate was wearing the hard stare again. An awkward silence filled the comms.

"Man, you are a mood breaker," Quinn said.

"Janvier is on the move," Hardison reported. "Just left his suite."

Eliot practically jumped to his feet, happy to have something to do besides sit and watch Jocelyn slip farther away. "Let's go, Parker."

"Be careful," Nate warned. "I'm running out of back up plans."

"Yeah, got it." He pulled on a sweatshirt, put the hood up over his head, and grabbed the bag of gear near the door.

"You're clear to the elevator," Hardison said. "I'm holding it for you."

They slipped out of the room and moved quickly to the elevator. Hardsion was controlling the video cameras on the floor and in the elevators. Security wouldn't see them.

As the elevator carried them to the penthouse, Eliot could feel her eyes on him.

"Is it hard?" she asked.

"What?"

"Watching Quinn with Loki. I think that would be hard."

Quinn choked and then laughed over the comm.

"Parker!" Eliot growled.

She frowned. "Sorry. I'm not used to having other people on our comms."

"I think you should answer the question," Quinn said.

"How about we all just focus on the jobs at hand?" Nate said.

"Yeah, well this guy is stopping at every table and talking," Quinn said. "We're gonna be here all night."

The elevator doors opened. He dropped the bag of gear and walked toward the penthouse with his head down. Parker waited in the elevator. He knew the location of door and the two guards. His challenge was to get within striking range before they reached for their weapons.

He was halfway there when a man with a French accent spoke. "Sir, you must have the wrong floor."

Eliot lifted his head and pulled the hood off. By the time either man recognized him, he was only five yards away.

"How you doin?" he said and closed the gap in a run.

The guard on his right was younger - he barely looked twenty - and faster. He had his gun pulled free of the holster. The guard on the left, the one that had spoken, was older and slower.

Eliot threw a vicious kick into the older guard as he grabbed the kid's gun arm. He put his hand over the kid's hand and pushed it so he was aiming at the other guard. The kid stepped out into a fighting stance and immediately went for a head kick.

Eliot blocked the kick and grabbed the kid's leg. He held the kid in an awkward yoga-like pose - trying to keep his balance on one leg, the other leg and his gun arm stretched to their limits.

Eliot glanced at the older guy. The kick had sent him stumbling to the side. He must have tripped over his own feet because he was down on his hands and knees.

The kid swung his free hand at Eliot's face, but his arm wasn't long enough to reach and he had no power in the swing. Eliot chuckled, and slammed his knee into the kid's solar plexus. He pulled the gun from the kid's grasp as he hit the wall.

He dropped the clip and tossed the gun in the farthest corner. He turned to face the older man and stepped right into a punch. Fire shot from his eye socket over the back of his skull and he took a step backwards.

The man followed with a hook that connected firmly with his jaw and knocked his head to the side. More pain radiated through his jawbone and wrapped around his neck.

It was a relief to feel something physical instead of all the emotional crap he had been swallowing. The pain was familiar. It was comforting. He smiled as he tasted blood in his mouth.

He sensed another punch coming. An uppercut aimed at his chin again. Eliot threw out and X-block, captured the man's arm and pushed it upwards until his ribs were exposed.

The man threw a weak punch with his other hand, but Eliot easily blocked it with half-assed crescent kick. Then he turned his foot over and buried it in man's ribs.

The man cried out in pain and fell sideways. Eliot followed him and connected his right fist to the man's face. As he waited for the man to hit the floor, he checked on the kid. He was still in the fetal position on the floor sucking for air.

The older guy hit the floor and didn't move. Eliot turned to the kid. Eliot waited while the kid struggled to his feet. He was still sucking air and couldn't stand up straight.

"You know who I am?" Eliot asked.

The kid just stared at him. Eliot asked again in French.

"Oui."

Eliot continued speaking in French, "Tell your boss I'm in town for the convention and I want to meet."

Once the kid nodded in understanding, Eliot delivered another knock-out punch.

He checked the older man one last time and then turned and walked back to the elevator. He stepped into the car and waited for Hardison's okay. Hardison had to control the video surveillance so that it looked like Eliot left.

"What took you so long?" Parker asked.

"So long?!" he snapped.

"Yeah, Eliot, what took you so long?" Quinn quipped.

Eliot growled. "Don't you have something to be doing, Quinn?"

"Oh, right..." Quinn murmured. "Hello, gorgeous..."

Eliot heard them kissing and his stomach tightened. He tried to focus on the pain in his head and blood in his mouth.

Parker was staring at him. "That's hard, right?"

"You're good to go," Hardison said.

He grabbed the bag and followed Parker back to the penthouse door. Parker used a card lock pick to get into the suite.

"Just moved up your timetable, Quinn," Nate said. "Janvier is on his way to you."

Parker headed directly for the desk at the far end of the living area. Eliot scanned for places to hide the tiny bombs Dexter had supplied.

Someone was pointedly clearing their throat. Then Eliot heard Janvier, "Melissa! How wonderful to see you."

Small talk. He hated small talk. As tucked bombs under tables and countertops, he had to listen to the man who wanted him dead make small talk with the woman he loved. The only positive was that Janvier didn't give Quinn much room to say anything.

By the time he returned to the living area, Parker was disconnecting from Janvier's laptop.

"I insist that you treat us to a song, ma cherie," Janvier said.

Eliot stopped and stared at Parker.

"Loki sings?"

"No, Didier," she said, and Eliot could hear the stress in her voice. "It's been too long."

"What's he doing?" Hardison asked.

"It's a power play," Eliot said.

"But I so enjoyed the last time you sang for me," Janvier said. "I think of it all the time."

"I don't get it," Parker said.

"He's exerting power by making her do something she doesn't want to," Nate said.

"No means no," Quinn said, anger set in his voice.

"Nonsense," Janvier said. "She loves to perform."

The droning orchestra music stopped suddenly.

"Don't let him get to you, Jocelyn," he said softly. "You can kick him in the balls and walk away. It's okay."

There was a moment of silence over the comms. Then Jocelyn laughed.

"You're right, of course," Jocelyn said. "Nothing I love more than everybody watching me."

There were sounds of a piano. A few chords. A couple of arpeggios. And then she started singing. A sexy, confident alto.

Eliot had heard her sing the song before. It was a supposed love song that he had always found depressing. But he still loved hearing her sing it.

If.

_"If a picture paints a thousand words then why can't I paint you…?"_

There was silence on the comms until she finished. He didn't even hear Hardison typing.

After a round of enthusiastic applause, Janvier was the first to speak. "That was..."

But Quinn cut him off. "Amazing, love," Quinn said, his voice filled with convincing emotion.

"Get her away from him, Quinn," Eliot said.

"She hasn't gotten to the contract yet," Nate said.

"I don't care," Eliot said.

The background music started again. "First a song, and now a dance," Janvier said.

"There's no one dancing, Didier," Jocelyn said.

"Quinn!" Eliot snapped.

"Well, it is the founder's ball," Janvier said.

"We've had a long day," Quinn tried. "And we are still newlyweds..."

"Just one dance, Monsieur Quinn. I will be a perfect gentleman, I promise," Janvier said.

"It's okay, Nick," Jocelyn said. "This will give Didier and me a chance to talk."

"Just remember, I'm a jealous man, love," Quinn said.

Eliot wasn't happy about having to watch her with Quinn or listen to Janvier try and force himself on her. He wasn't happy about having to stay on the sidelines while the rest of the team was taking the hits.

Eliot wasn't happy about what was going on, but he was unexpectedly satisfied that Quinn would take care of her.


	12. Chapter 12 - Quinn's Every

**Twelve: Quinn's Every Breath**

Soundtrack: (still) _Every Breath You Take_ by The Police

Quinn was not happy. It was not easy to be with her when she was wearing that dress. And then Janvier showed up and kept leering at her. Then she sat down at the piano and played that song and sang... sang like a professional. Like she did that every night of her life. It was very other-worldly. On the outside he had to act like he knew all along she could do that while on the inside he just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

And now he had to watch Janvier put his hands on her. He thought it would be good to hear their conversation, but it wasn't. He had to listen to thinly veiled threats and jabs at his manhood.

It wasn't fun. He wasn't happy.

He walked to the bar and ordered a bourbon neat.

"The last time I saw you, Melissa, you were working for and engaged to Mickey O'Mara. Now you're working for Arden Doyle, protecting Eliot Spencer, and married to this tool Quinn. What happened?"

"Mickey was minor league on all accounts," she replied. "It was time for me to move on."

"And how did you catch Doyle's eye?"

"I walked into his compound on his private island and introduced myself," she said.

There was a moment of silence, and Quinn turned to watch them.

Janvier wasn't a physically impressive man. Barely Jocelyn's height with her heels on. Fit, but not muscular. Dirty blond hair with too much product and an unusually crooked mouth. If he remembered correctly from Hardison's debrief, Janvier was in his early 40s and ran a small, but impressive organized crime syndicate in addition to several legitimate businesses which he used to launder money.

Janvier laughed. "I would very much have liked to see that," he said.

She shrugged, and held Quinn's eyes for a moment.

"Tell me why you're protecting Spencer."

She turned her eyes back to Janvier. "Tell me why you want him dead."

After a quiet moment Janvier said, "There are things happening within my organization… items disappearing, people turning, law enforcement snooping… very few people could put all the pieces together. Eliot Spencer is one of them."

She gave Janvier a thoughtful look. "He's just one of them? Then why target him?"

"I have targeted all of them, ma cherie," Janvier replied. "Apparently Spencer is the only one you care about."

"_Arden_ cares about," she corrected. "Eliot was retired, you know."

"That's not strictly true," Janvier countered. "I heard he was using his skills for more noble purposes. Which makes it even more likely that he is trying to topple my organization."

"I guarantee… Arden Doyle guarantees that Eliot is not trying to bring down your organization," she said.

"And why does Doyle care so much?"

"I don't know," she said.

"You just do what Doyle says?" he asked.

"Pretty much."

"Is that what happened with Quinn? Did Doyle tell you to marry him?"

Quinn finished his bourbon and turned back to order another.

"Doyle had nothing to do with that," she replied.

"Then why? Help me understand, Melissa" Janvier continued. "You date Mickey for years and don't marry him, but two months with a man who tried to kill you... yes, I heard the story... two months with this one and you're married?"

"After a moment she said, "Who can explain love?"

"How very French!" Janvier laughed. "But try." There was some more silence and then Janvier prodded her. "I mean I see that he is an attractive man if you're into the rugged, less cerebral type..."

Eliot laughed.

"But that is not enough to move a woman like you into such a quick marriage."

Quinn took his drink and turned back towards them. He was slightly surprised to find her staring at him. She smiled.

"He thrills me in a way no man ever has. And maybe the fact that he tried to kill me and couldn't makes it all that much more thrilling." She paused, keeping her eyes on him as Janvier moved them in a slow circle. "Everything is better with him. And I don't want to be without him. So, when he was stupid enough to propose, I accepted."

Now Janvier was looking at him. He ran his eyes over him and then looked back and forth between the two of them. "He may thrill you, ma cherie, but I see no real connection between you two."

She exhaled. "I didn't come here to get your blessing, Didier. I came here to talk business."

"Business," Janvier said. "Of course. Both you and your tool husband will play on my team tomorrow night."

"Uh-uh, no!" Eliot said.

She exhaled forcefully. "The contract, Didier," she said. "I'm here on behalf of Doyle to negotiate repeal of the contract…"

"We can discuss that after we win the game," Janvier said.

"Game?" Parker asked.

"I'm in no shape to compete," she said. "I got injured on my last job."

He stopped moving and put one hand on her cheek. "You are a strong woman, Melissa. This I know. And a fierce competitor. If you want to negotiate anything you and your husband will play."

Quinn moved instinctively toward the dance floor, setting his drink on a table as he passed.

"Fine," Jocelyn said, a controlled anger coloring her words. "We'll play."

Janvier moved, blocking Quinn's view with his back. But he knew Janvier's hands were no longer where they should be.

"Don't hit him, Quinn!" Ford said.

Quinn took a deep breath and tapped Janvier on the shoulder. As Janvier turned, Quinn was able to see that he was stroking her arm with one hand and the other was on her hip. And there wasn't near enough space between them.

Janvier gave him a smug smile.

"You said you'd be a perfect gentleman," Quinn said through a clenched jaw.

Janvier laughed. "I'm being a perfect _French_ gentleman."

"Oh, he wants to be punched!" Hardison said.

"No!" Ford snapped.

"We're not in France," Quinn said extending his hand to Jocelyn. "And this dance is over."

The moment he felt her hand in his he pulled her to his side.

Janvier ran his eyes over Jocelyn and gave a creepy laugh. "Ah, well, we've always got tomorrow night."

Quinn had heard all of it but had to act as if he hadn't. How would a jealous husband who couldn't punch the prick react?

"I think we have plans tomorrow night," he said.

"Yes, to play the game! With me! On my team!"

"The bragging rights game?" Quinn asked.

"You have never been invited before, have you?" Janvier said. "It is always fun and can be quite profitable if you're on the winning team." He looked at Jocelyn. "It will be even better this year. I hired a local firm to design the course and act as game masters. It is going to be... how do gamers say it...? Epic!"


	13. Chapter 13 - Near

**Thirteen: Near**

Soundtrack: _Near to You_ by A Fine Frenzy

He was thankful there was nothing but silence on the comms while they walked back to their room. But he wasn't fond of the unusual silence surrounding Jocelyn. She held his hand, wrapped the other hand around his bicep, and clung to his side the entire time. But she wouldn't look at him. She didn't speak to him.

She didn't let go of him until he closed the door to their room. Then she just took a step away from him and stood there with her back to him.

"That could have gone better," he said.

"Ya think?" Eliot snapped.

"Unzip me," she said her voice devoid of any emotion.

He was a little surprised. "Uhm… okay…?"

He unzipped the dress and she literally let it fall off her body and onto the floor.

"Guys, what's going on?" Ford asked quietly.

She bent over in front of him and took off her shoes and his pants were lacking in room because of it. She reached up to her ear as she started to turn around.

"Not sure…" he replied.

It was an effort to keep his eyes on her face. The muscles in her face were slack, her eyes were glassy, and her bottom lip was quivering.

"Jocelyn? Are you okay?" Eliot asked.

She held out the earpiece to him and he took it. She walked into the bathroom but didn't bother to close the door.

"Quinn! What's going on?" Eliot barked.

"Uhm… just a…"

He watched as she pulled the elaborate comb from her hair and then undid her bra and pulled off her panties. Then she turned to the shower and started running the water.

"Quinn!"

It was difficult for him to walk away from any naked woman but especially her. He stepped farther into the room. "Uhm… Jocelyn is taking a shower."

"Is she okay?" Sophie asked.

He set the earpiece on the table and walked to the mini-fridge. "Maybe not."

"What did you do?" Eliot growled.

"Of course you would blame me," Quinn said, grabbing every bottle of amber liquid he could find and closing the door. "I'm thinking that maybe the way Janvier forced her to do all that tonight has sorta…"

"Pissed her off?" Parker offered.

He thought back to the look on her face. "Uh, no, more like… has her feeling helpless and maybe victimized."

Quinn opened a bottle and poured the contents into a glass.

"I wish I could have punched the guy," he said. "He acts like women are possessions – things to be controlled. And Jocelyn…" He paused a moment to think over all he knew about her. He took a drink.

"What about Jocelyn?" Eliot asked his voice unusually calm.

He chose his words carefully. "She's a little... vulnerable to that kind of thing. And…"

"And?" Eliot prompted.

"Well, I think this whole save Eliot crusade has worn her down. I'm guessing under normal circumstances she could have handled Janvier no problem. But she's tired. Tired in every way possible."

He took another drink and then opened another bottle. He'd almost finished his drink by the time Ford broke the silence. He was finally starting to feel the alcohol soften his brain.

"Do you think she's going to be okay?"

Quinn opened another bottle and poured it in the glass.

"Quinn?"

"You're asking me?" he said.

"Yes, I'm asking you," Ford said, his voice edged with irritation. "You're the one that witnessed the evening first hand."

He gave the whole situation some quick consideration. "Yeah, she's gonna be okay because this is all about Eliot."

He waited for a remark from Eliot, but there was only silence. Followed by a new silence as the water stopped.

He lowered his voice and reported, "She's getting out of the shower now."

Within moments she emerged from the bathroom wearing a robe and drying her hair with the towel. She looked tired, but not like she was in shock.

He smiled at her. "I didn't know women could take showers that fast."

She tilted her head at him and gave him half a smirk. She walked to him, took the glass from his hand and finished it without a grimace. She put the glass back in his hand and looked at him expectantly. "Earpiece?"

He pointed at the table. She walked to the table and grabbed the earpiece. She pointed at the glass. "Gonna need another."

She put the earpiece in and said, "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," Ford said. "Quinn was just giving us a little color commentary."

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Sorry I missed that."

He shrugged and opened another bottle and poured it in the glass.

"Tell me about the game," Ford said.

"No game," Eliot said.

"I vote for that," Quinn said. "I hear not everybody makes it out alive."

"I've heard those rumors too," Jocelyn said. "The year I played nobody died, but there were some serious injuries."

"This has gotten way out of hand," Eliot said. "I'm not putting you at risk any more. None of you."

There were several moments of quiet. Jocelyn broke it. "You're asking us to just let you get killed then?"

"I can take care of this on my own," Eliot said.

Quinn watched her face. She didn't seem surprised or upset. Just annoyed. "Just going to take on Janvier and all his muscle by yourself?"

"No!" Ford said.

"Eliot, please," Sophie begged.

"Uh-uh," Hardison said. "Not letting you do that."

"Hey! Do any of you remember how I took care of Moreaux's crew?"

There were a few moments of quiet and Jocelyn asked. "What about you, Parker? What do you think?"

"I think Eliot needs our help whether he wants to admit it or not."

Jocelyn gave him a pointed look. "Quinn?"

"Hey, I'm just the trophy husband."

She ran her eyes over him obviously. "Yeah, you are," she said with a smirk. He was a little shocked. Hardison coughed and Jocelyn laughed. "But what I'm asking is are you in or out?"

He shook his head. "I think I want to renegotiate my contract."

She laughed. "Well, there is a cash prize if we win the game."

"So, the game," Ford said.

She was still running her eyes over him. "It's an invitation only paintball tournament," she said moving toward him.

"A bunch of mercenaries and hitters playing paintball, that's rich," Sophie said.

"And how do you get seriously hurt playing paintball?" Parker asked. "A sprained ankle or something?"

He watched her as she approached him. "We are competitive by nature," he said. She nodded in agreement. "With violent tendencies and the skills to hurt people. Getting hit with a paintball won't stop that."

"Plus Janvier loves bringing in hitters that have conflicts with each other to promote more violence."

"O'Mara?" Ford asked.

"You can bet he'll be in the mix tomorrow night," she said, stopping in front of him.

"Where does this thing happen?" Ford asked.

"Not sure. They drive us to the site in security shuttles with screens covering the windows. And from what Mickey told me last time Janvier moves it every year. When I played it was in a big warehouse about a 35-minute drive from the Bellagio."

She took the glass from his hand. "Which reminds me," she pointed up at him with one finger. "Don't drink or eat anything Janvier offers before the game. He has been known to drug people just for fun."

"What a nice guy," he said.

She put the glass to her lips and swallowed the liquor in two swallows. She handed it back to him with a smile.

"I could just fix you your own, you know."

"Move fun this way," she said.

Ford cleared his throat. "What about these game masters?"

"That's new," she said.

"Game masters my ass," he said setting down the glass and opening another bottle. "They're Janvier's storm troopers. His fail safe. They'll make sure he's protected and won't give a shit about anybody else."

"Probably," she said running her eyes over him again. He started to feel heat move over his body.

"We find the firm yet, Hardison?" Ford asked.

He poured the liquor in the glass. As soon as he had set the bottle down her hands were on him.

"Trident Global Security," Hardison said, "and it looks like…"

She slipped his jacket off and carried it to the closet.

"Yes!" Hardison exclaimed. "We've got floor plans and even some pictures."

"Ewww! What's that?" Parker said. "Oh… looks like fun," she said not very convincingly.

Jocelyn was headed back to him shaking her head and smiling. He assumed she found Parker's comments amusing.

"Find us a way in, Hardison. We need to be there tomorrow night," Ford said.

"No!" Eliot snapped.

Quinn held out the drink to her, but she shook her head. She looked into his eyes for several long moments.

"Eliot, this is what we do," Sophie said.

Jocelyn let her eyes trail down over his chest.

"Have you lost total faith in us as a team?" Ford asked.

Quinn watched as she reached out and pressed both her hands on his chest. He focused on his breathing as an uncomfortable silence grew on the comms. He closed his eyes as she moved her hands over his chest and then up over his shoulders.

He had to shift his weight to avoid an uncomfortable bind in his pants.

"I'll find us a way in," Hardison said.

She pressed her hips against his and he was pretty much sprung.

"A way in," he murmured, thinking about her.

"Uh, what?" Hardison asked.

Quinn snapped his eyes open. "Just agreeing with you."

She was looking into his eyes, a wicked smile on her lips. He shook his head at her and took a drink.

"Anything else we can do tonight?" Ford asked.

Jocelyn started unbuttoning his shirt. He took another drink.

"Jocelyn?" Ford prompted.

"Oh," she said, her voice husky, "You're talking to me?"

"Yes."

Quinn gritted his teeth to keep from moaning when her hands made contact with his skin.

"No, I can't think of anything that could help at this point," she responded.

"Quinn?" Ford asked. "Everything okay?"

He fought off a laugh. "Couldn't be better." He looked at her. "Seriously. Couldn't. Be. Better."

She moved her hands down to his waist and he squirmed, fighting to keep from laughing. She pulled his shirt free.

"Okay…" Ford seemed to be stalling. "Well… check in first thing in the morning. We might need a face-to-face to go over the plan."

"Will do," she responded.

"Get some rest," Ford said.

Quinn chuckled. He couldn't help it. "Good idea."

Another awkward silence. Jocelyn ran her hands over his bare chest again and then removed both cufflinks.

"Good night, all," Jocelyn said. After the various responses, she pulled the earpiece out, turned it off, and set it on the table.

"Quinn," Ford's voice surprised him. "Don't do anything to make this worse."

"Don't kid yourself," he responded. "Things can't get any worse."

She looked at him, her head tilted and an eyebrow raised quizzically.

He finished the drink, pulled the earpiece, turned it off, and set it next to hers. She pulled his shirt off, took both hands and led him to the bed.

"Want to watch Sports Center?" he asked.

She shook her head and unbuckled his belt.

"Jimmy Kimmel?"

"Too late for Jimmy," she said and unfastened and unzipped his pants.

She carefully guided them down his legs, and he moaned at the sight of her so close to his raging erection.

"You're killing me," he muttered.

She laughed. "Bad choice of words."

She stayed on her knees; put both hands on his hips and pushed until his butt fell onto the bed. She made quick work of his shoes and socks and soon he was free of all clothing except his boxers.

She stood up in front of him and moved so that she was standing between his legs. He wanted to touch her, wanted to put his hands on her thighs and unclothe her like she had him, but decided against it. It was important to him that she run this show. He looked up at her.

"Do you want me, Beau?"

"Is that a trick question?"

She smiled and he took a moment to try and think through his lust. What did she need at this moment?

"Yes, Jocelyn, I want you. No other woman will satisfy me."

She smiled broadly, put her hand on his face and kissed him. He still didn't touch her. When she had him breathless she pulled away and looked in his eyes.

"I need you to make love to me, Beau. Make love to me like you're in love with me. Can you do that?"

He took a moment to pretend like he was thinking about it. "Yes," he held his arms up to her. "Let me make love to you, Jocelyn."

She smiled again and fell into his arms.

_He's disappearing  
Fading steadily  
And I'm so close to being yours  
Won't you stay with me?_

~ Near to You by A Fine Frenzy ~


	14. Chapter 14 - Darkness

**Fourteen: Darkness**

Author's note: So this could easily be a "deleted scene" on your collector's edition Blu-Ray/DVD/UltraViolet combo pack. It doesn't really move the story forward, but hints at back story and gives a little character development, I guess. Mostly, it's sitting here on my computer so I thought I'd share.

Soundtrack: _In the Darkness_ by Christian Kane

The sliding glass door opened, and Eliot looked over his shoulder. Hardison closed the door, sat down in the chair next to him, and handed him a bottle of beer.

"Thanks," he said with a nod.

Hardison took a drink of his own beer, and then said, "You seem to be doing a lot of this lately. Sitting in the dark and drinking."

He responded only by taking a drink. They sat in silence for several minutes.

Finally Hardison turned and looked at him. "Does it bother you to see her with Quinn?"

"Of course it does, Hardison," he growled.

Hardison continued to stare at him like he was expecting more. Finally he said, "Did you really tell her you didn't love her and that you never would?"

It was like a physical blow. He set his jaw against the flare of emotions. "Yeah, I did."

"Is it the truth?"

"Thought it was at the time," he replied.

"Oh, outstanding, man. All it took was watching her with another man to make you realize you love her."

"I knew I loved her before Quinn came around," he snapped.

"Doesn't really matter though," Hardsion continued. "I can't imagine a woman like her giving second chances. Especially not after how devastated she was over you."

He felt a burning sensation in his stomach and tried to extinguish it with a large drink of beer. "How do you know she was devastated?"

"Parker was worried but she's not good with the… well, you know. She sent me over to check on Jocelyn. It was a good thing. Jocelyn needed a lot of support to get through those first weeks without you. She stayed with us for several days."

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"For what?" Hardison asked.

"For taking care of her."

Hardison nodded and took a drink.

"You know her and Quinn are probably…"

He held up a hand to stop him from finishing the thought. "Yeah, I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Hardison was the one to break it.

"You going to tell her you love her?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't she might just run off with Quinn."

The thought had crossed his mind. "She might be better off with Quinn."

"How do you figure?"

"Maybe Quinn can give her what she needs… what she deserves."

"And what is that?" Hardison asked.

"She wanted me to open up all the time. Wanted to know about my life before. Wanted me to say things and do things that I just can't… I can't be that guy."

Hardison was quiet for a few moments. "She's not asking you to go on CNN and broadcast it to the world. She just wants you to share with her. It's not an unrealistic expectation."

"I know. I just can't do it."

There was more silence and Eliot finished his beer.

"You lived without her for almost a year and seems to me that you were pretty miserable," Hardison said.

"I was."

"So why aren't you willing to do whatever it takes to get her back? You say you love her. Do you love her enough to take a little pain and open up to her?"

"You don't understand…"

"Oh, I think I'm beginning to… you're afraid of happiness, Eliot."

Eliot was quiet for a few moments. He didn't like sharing. And he'd been doing too much of it lately. It was difficult to get the words out.

"I'm afraid that if I open up to her… if she finds out who I really am… that she'll hate me."

"That's ridiculous, man."

He put his eyes on Hardison. "I've done some awful things, Hardison. You have no idea."

"Hasn't she done those same things?"

He shook his head. "Not like me."

After a few moments thought, Hardison said, "If anybody can understand and still love you despite of what you've done, it's Jocelyn."

"Even after what I've put her through?" he asked quietly.

"Well, looks like she's giving Quinn a second chance and he tried to kill her, so you might have a chance." Hardison smiled. "Listen, man, I liked you better when you were with her. I think you should take the chance and go after her. But you make sure you can give her what she needs before you make that move." Hardison gave him a hard glare and waved his hand between them. "Or you and me are going to have some trouble. Understand?"

Eliot fought back a smile. "Yeah, got it."

_'Cause I've been hell on wheels for days now  
There ain't a shade of red I can't paint  
When the lights go down, she always helps me see.  
In the darkness a day will come  
Another light for you to lean upon  
But until then maybe your heart  
Can rest in mine._

~ _In the Darkness _by Christian Kane ~


	15. Chapter 15 - Harder

**Fifteen**: **Harder to Breathe**

Author's note: Another "deleted scene" for your collector's edition.

Soundtrack: _Harder to Breathe_ by Maroon 5

He couldn't believe he was cuddling. Couldn't believe he wasn't hating it. She felt good in his arms. Felt good curled over his side, her head heavy on his chest. It felt good the way she stroked his bicep. Felt good to brush his fingers over the scar he had given her.

"Why do you keep doing that?" she asked softly.

"Just thinking," he said. "If I had been successful with that job I never would have had the most amazing sex of my life."

She looked up at him. "You're kidding right?"

"Definitely in the top five," he said. After a moment he asked, "You want to talk about Janvier?"

"Not really."

"He really got to you tonight…"

"You too," she replied. "You should have seen the look on your face when you cut in."

"He deserved a good beating," he replied. "Guy is an ass hat."

She laughed.

"When we got back here," he said quietly, "I thought you were out of the game. It's like you were in shock or something."

She hesitated. "Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I just sorta shut down."

"A defensive mechanism," he said. "Just glad you came out of it."

"I usually do."

"You get that from men a lot, don't you? The way Janvier was treating you. The thing Mickey did…"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You trying to shrink me, Beau?"

He made circles around his scar. "Just doing my homework."

She was quiet for a moment then said, "Yeah, I get varying degrees of shitiness from men."

"When did it start?" he asked.

She exhaled and moved her eyes as if she were thinking hard about it. "Junior high, I guess."

"Wow, that's early."

She nodded. "I was so naïve. I thought it was natural for boyfriends to always be violently jealous."

"When did you realize it wasn't right?" he asked.

"I was sixteen. My dad forced me to take a self defense class. I loved it and started taking Tae Kwon Do. It empowered me. The instructor was this former marine. She taught me not only how to defend myself but also taught me healthy expectations for men and relationships."

"Marine, huh?"

"Yep. She set me some high standards."

"Many men able to live up to them?" he asked.

"Not so far."

They lay in silence for awhile. He stroked the long line of her spine.

"Hey, this thing tomorrow," she said. "I tried to down play it when we were talking with the others, but it can be really dangerous."

He laughed. "Yeah, I'm aware."

"And it wasn't part of our original agreement. It's okay if you want to fake food poisoning or something."

"Aww, doll, are you worried about me?"

She gave him a comical frown-like look. "What? Worried about the guy that tried to kill me?"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

She laughed and moved out of his arms. He missed the feel of her immediately.

She stared at him for a moment. "Speaking of that night, I need you to do something for me."

His penis jumped to attention like she had called it by name.

"What?"

Her voice was a little harder. "I need you to get out of the bed, Mr. Quinn."

The change in tone, the change in name, he started to consider that the woman was damaged beyond the benefit of amazing sex. She was gorgeous, the sex was stellar, but nobody wants a psycho-ex that knows 400 ways to kill.

"Out of the bed!"

His penis relaxed a little. He watched her carefully as he climbed out on the opposite side of her.

"What?" he asked again.

She motioned for him to approach. He tilted his head, trying to get a read on her.

"Are you scared of me, Quinn?" she asked.

"Not hardly, doll."

He took two steps and she cartwheeled across the bed and somehow wrapped her legs around his waist and took him down to the floor.

He could have fought her off, but he could tell from his past experience that she wasn't trying to hurt him. Her body was totally different. Besides being completely naked, the tension building in her was different.

He let her slide over his hips and pin his wrists to his sides. She tried to give him a harsh glare, but it cracked, a sexy smile taking over her face.

"What do you need now?" he asked.

"It's funny that Parker brought up Mr. and Mrs. Smith the other day. It's one of my favorite movies."

"So, you need a full-on Mr. Quinn then?"

She nodded and his penis came right back to attention.

Her grip on his wrists relaxed and he bucked his hips and easily reversed their positions. He chose to pin her wrists over her head.

"Impossible for a woman to maintain a hold like that on a man. Why even try, doll?"

She licked her lips and started moving her hips under him. He was distracted and relaxed his hold. She arched her back, rolled her hips, and somehow wrapped her legs around his torso.

He felt her legs move between his arms and ribcage and suddenly he was on his back and she was standing on her feet just out of his reach. She was wearing a sexy smile.

He rolled over and leaped at her, pushing her back to wall. She hit it hard enough to drive the air out of her lungs. She arched her back so that her breasts pressed against his chest. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around him. He braced for some new kind of snake-like move, but it never came. She just held him tightly against her.

He started with crushing kisses. They were fast, furious, and hard to keep track of. He found it difficult to pull away from her, but there was something he had to tell her.

"You know this habit you have of telling me exactly what you want?" he asked.

She looked at him through lust-filled eyes. "Uh-huh?"

"That is such a turn on!"

_How dare you say that my behavior is unacceptable  
So condescending unnecessarily critical  
I have the tendency of getting very physical  
So watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle_

~ _Harder to Breathe_ by Maroon 5 ~


	16. Chapter 16 - Prophets

**Sixteen: Prophecy**

Soundtrack: _Prophecy_ by Remy Zero

He couldn't keep his eyes off her as he waited for the drinks. Across the pool, stretched out on a lounge chair rocking a black bikini, reading that book she had been reading on the plane. Her hair was held back in a large clip at the nape of neck. Even the large straw sun hat she was wearing couldn't detract from her total hotness. He suspected that she was staring at him but he couldn't be sure because her large dark sunglasses.

The bartender delivered the drinks, a mojito for her and a club soda for him. He grabbed them and started walking. As he passed a private cabana a hand shot out and grabbed him by the neck. As he was pulled into the cabana, adrenaline flowed into his system and he prepared for a fight, every muscle in his body tightening.

"Quinn!" Jocelyn's voice sounded over his comm, filled with concern.

He threw the two drinks in the direction of his attacker, put his hand over the hand on his throat, and broke the hold just as the cabana canvas fluttered closed behind him.

"Damn it, Quinn!" Eliot growled. He was brushing off liquid from his shirt, the two empty plastic cups resting near his boots.

"What the hell are you doing?" Quinn snapped.

"Do I need to come over there?" Jocelyn asked.

"Hey, hey, what's going on team?" Ford asked.

"No, Jocelyn," Eliot said leveling his tough guy stare at him. "I just need to have a little talk with Quinn."

"You know these things we wear in our ears constantly?" he asked. "Could have talked to me any time, pal."

"It's not that kind of talk," Eliot replied.

"No, no, not a good idea," Ford said.

"You are way over the line, Spencer," Jocelyn said, anger in her voice.

"I just need two minutes," Eliot said. "I'm not going to hurt your trophy husband." He touched his ear and Quinn assumed he turned his earpiece off.

Quinn laughed. "Got that right."

"Quinn, don't…" Jocelyn said. "I need you in top form tonight."

"I'm kinda interested in what he has to say actually. If he starts throwing punches, I'll let you know."

"Damn it, Quinn…!" she growled.

He turned off his earpiece. "You pissed her off now, guy."

Eliot stared at him for a few moments then said, "You're mixing business and pleasure, Quinn. It's dangerous."

He tilted his head pretending to think. "No, this has pretty much been about pleasure ever since I realized you were stupid enough to let her get away. Seriously, what were you thinking?"

He gave Eliot a smirk. Eliot responded with a quiet growl and made his hands into fists.

"No, actually, this has been about pleasure ever since I saw her waiting for me at the airport. She's kinda the one that got away for me too."

Eliot stepped closer to him. "If you try to finish the job…"

"Finish the job?" Quinn laughed again. "I killed the guy that put the contract out on her! No one told you?"

The muscles in Eliot's face, neck, and arms relaxed a little. "Why? Why would you do that?"

He frowned. "You're asking the wrong question."

After a few moments Eliot shook his head. "You tried to kill her, she stopped you."

"Yes, I made a mistake and went for the intimate kill. But trust me on this; I could have physically taken her." He took a step closer to Eliot and lowered his voice. "The mistake was getting that close to her and really seeing her. Touching her. Smelling her…"

Eliot growled. "Shut up, Quinn!"

"You're the one that wanted to talk, pal," he responded with a similar growl. "I couldn't kill her that night because she caught me so off guard. I was attracted to her despite the fact that she was trying to kill me right back."

Eliot shook his head. "You're messed up, man."

"Yeah!" he gave a sharp laugh. "Yeah, and it's because of her! But let's be really clear here, you and me…" he waved his hand between them. "I left her that night with just a knife wound, but she didn't have a whole crew watching her back. I could have easily taken her out if I wanted to."

They stared at each other for several long moments.

"Don't mix business with pleasure?" he growled. "That is fucking brilliant! Where were you three years ago when I took that contract?"

He waited for Eliot to say something. Anything.

"You want to talk? How about you tell me how I'm supposed to just walk away from her a second time. Especially after last night." He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Oh, yes, last night… all her you understand… I wouldn't have tried anything after what she had been through with Janvier… but it was amazing…! Some of the best sex of my life…"

He was ready for the punches. A right hook and a left cross. Both aimed at his face. He blocked both of them and with an angry snarl punched Eliot in the solar plexus with enough force to lift him off the ground. Eliot folded in the middle and he shoved him, trying to get more distance between them.

"You had nine years to figure it out, pal! You had her in your bed and you let her walk away!" Still bent over and sucking air, Eliot lifted his head enough to look at him. "The only man she's ever loved!" he growled pointing his finger at him. "You're a lucky man, Eliot Spencer. Because she's just playing with me!"

The cabana lit up briefly as someone entered from the backside. Quinn spun around and found Sophie standing there with two plastic cups.

"If you're quite done being Neanderthals, Jocelyn might need some help," she said.

"Oh shit!" He turned on his earpiece and heard a man's voice.

Sophie handed him the two drinks and he slipped out of the cabana. His eyes went to her immediately and found O'Mara sitting in the lounge next to her.

"Janvier is offering rewards for injuring your husband," O'Mara said.

They spoke in near unison. "What?!"

He started walking faster.

"He even implied that he would pay out big for a kill," O'Mara said.

"Son of a bitch," he growled.

"Why?" Jocelyn asked.

"He didn't say," O'Mara replied.

"No, why are you telling me this, Mick?" she asked.

Quinn arrived and glared at O'Mara. "You're in my spot, pal."

O'Mara ignored him, kept his focus on Jocelyn. "Because you work for Doyle," he said. "And someday I may need a favor."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Jocelyn replied.

O'Mara shrugged and stood up. "What if I help protect him tonight," O'Mara said, bobbing his head towards him. "Would that earn me a favor from Doyle?"

He had to play dumb again. "It's a paintball game. I don't need protection."

O'Mara smiled and started to walk away. "We'll see about that, _pal_."


	17. Chapter 17 - Together

**Seventeen: Together **

Soundtrack: _We're In This Together _by Nine Inch Nails

The team spent most of the afternoon planning. Ten four-man teams meant there would be 38 people with motivation to kill him. And the longer they were in there, the greater the odds that somebody would succeed. One of their main goals was to end the competition quickly. To that end, everybody had a part.

Hardison pretty much owned Trident Global Security's computer system and had set everyone up. Sophie was a hostess on their shuttle bus and would provide them with earpieces and trackers after they passed the security scan. Ford wanted Dexter on the floor as a game master, so Hardison had to bring Chaos in to help him in the control room. Winger would be hanging out in the rafters with Parker taking care of competitors.

"Dude! Can you believe they have sniper rifles for paintball?"

Because the game masters were required to wear pretty much full riot gear, Eliot could be on the floor without being recognized. Hardison had slotted Ford in as a senior game master which meant he would be stationed on an elevated platform and could direct the action.

Eliot had tried more than once to shut down the whole operation.

"Aw, that's sweet, Spencer," he had mocked at the time, "But no need to worry your pretty little head about me. I've been in tougher spots than this."

At that point Jocelyn had joined in, trying to convince him to fake illness again.

The moment they were back in the room, Jocelyn pinned him to the wall and proceeded to pleasure him in new ways. When they were both exhausted, Jocelyn had tried again to convince him not to play.

He considered it. Considered his motivations.

He hadn't tried to collect on the contract because he respected Eliot. All the way back to before Sterling hired him to neutralize him. Then when he worked with Eliot on that damn job, he actually enjoyed it. Thought they might have been pals under different circumstances. He wouldn't try to kill Eliot no matter the price.

Then Ford called and he accepted the job mostly because of the paycheck. But a little because he had enjoyed working with the team previously. It was a nice change of pace.

But now, did he really think making himself a big fat target was the only way to get Spencer out of the contract? Hell, no. Chances were Janvier was going to take them out no matter what happened in the game.

His motivation now, he was somewhat ashamed to admit, was her. He didn't want her going into that game alone, and he didn't want to look like a cowering pussy in front of her.

They had been sitting on the shuttle for about ten minutes, waiting for the team captains to get gear and board the shuttles when Ford's voice first came over the comm.

"We have a problem."

She glanced at him.

"Wow, Quinn, what did you do to piss of Janvier?" Chaos asked, damaging what little calm he had left.

"How about you focus on fixing this?" Ford growled. It was surprising actually. Eliot growled all the time. He growled. Even Jocelyn growled on occasion. But Ford?

Jocelyn ran her hands over her face to disguise her speaking. "What is going on?" she growled softly.

"Uh, yeah, sorry," Ford said. "All the game masters check in on a computer, and when I checked in there was a flash message offering rewards for injuries on Quinn."

Quinn's stomach did a somersault. Jocelyn put her head down and pretended to stretch her neck. "And I suppose game masters don't get checked for weapons?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, no," Ford replied.

"What is it going to take for us to call this off?" Eliot growled.

"It's okay, I got it," Hardison said. "The message showed a photo of Quinn. Now it will be a random participant but not Quinn or Jocelyn."

"Well done," Ford said. "Maybe the game masters will actually remove some of the players for us."

Jocelyn straightened in her seat and exhaled. His stomach calmed a little.

"You still need to be wary of the game masters, though," Ford said. "Remember Eliot and Dexter are wearing Livestrong bracelets."

Janvier was suddenly in front of them wearing a greasy smile. "We are the pink team."

"At least it's not yellow," Quinn said.

Janvier laughed, and handed him a bright pink arm band with the number 3 on it.

Janvier handed Jocelyn a band and the stepped aside. "I believe you know our fourth?" he said.

O'Mara stood there holding a large bag, his face expressionless.

Jocelyn scowled at Janvier.

"How could I not, ma cherie? Last time we played together we won."

The shuttle lurched forward. They were on their way.

During the 40 minute drive they divided up the guns and gear. They each had a semi-automatic assault rifle, two hand guns, and a heavy supply of pink paintballs. They were all wearing black cargo pants, long sleeve black fleece shirts, and tactical vests. And they had night vision goggles.

The rules were pretty simple. Only shots on the torso, above the belt were "kills". If "killed" you dropped to the ground where you were and stayed there until the end of the game. Points were given for last person or team standing as well as for number of "kills" each team got. So being the last team standing didn't mean you won.

Each person had a small device clipped to their vest that had two buttons on it. One was supposed to be used when you got killed. The other was supposed to be used if you got injured and required help. Like any of these tough guys would use that.

The site was a warehouse in the middle of an abandoned complex. As they walked toward the open cargo doors, Quinn took note of two ambulances with full medical crews.

"Nice that you're taking our safety seriously," Quinn said.

Janvier smiled at him. "But of course."

They entered the warehouse and Janvier took the lead. The lights were up for the first seven minutes and then would be turned off. Quinn looked around as they moved. He had seen the photos but it was much more intimidating in person.

"Looks like a torture chamber threw up on a playground," Jocelyn said.

He chuckled. There was in fact oversized playground equipment spread throughout the course. And there were stands of realistic trees. There was twisted metal and jagged concrete. Chain link fences, razor wire, and rebar sculpted into menacing shapes.

Above their heads was a series of suspended tunnels. Some open, some entirely closed in. Improvised spiral stairs made out of industrial wire lead up to the tunnels and slides and chutes allowed quick ground access.

He looked higher and saw a small aircraft and a stylized UFO hanging from the rafters. He did a quick scan of the rafters looking for Parker and Winger. He was very happy to not see either one. If he couldn't see them hopefully others couldn't either.

"Watch the floor too," she said to him. "There's usually booby traps."

"Oh, cherie," Janvier said, "You're ruining all the surprises for him."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of surprises for all of us," she replied.

They approached a game master and Quinn checked for the Livestrong bracelet. It was not Dexter or Eliot. The game masters were dressed similar to the players except they also had helmets with darkened shields and fluorescent orange vests. They were also carrying tonfas and tazers. And those were just the weapons Quinn could see.

Janvier lead them to a large concrete barrier, grabbed a frayed rope and started to climb. O'Mara grabbed on to a twisted piece of rebar and started climbing. Quinn watched as Jocelyn followed Janvier. It was a nice view.

If he ever fell in love it would be with a woman just like her.

Being behind her would be too distracting, so he followed O'Mara. Once at the top, they started moving along the barrier. The barrier ended at a rectangle trampoline. Janvier jumped on it several times until he was high enough to grab the bottom of one of the makeshift spiral staircases then pulled himself up and climbed towards the suspended tunnels.

Jocelyn followed without hesitation, O'Mara stood next to him watching. They watched as she pulled herself up and climbed up the spiral metal.

"Damn she's strong for a woman," O'Mara said appreciatively.

Quinn turned to him. "Shut up. You don't get to talk about her." He leaped onto the trampoline and in two bounces was hanging on the bottom of the staircase. Once he climbed up to the tunnels, he didn't see Janvier or Jocelyn and his heart literally dropped into his stomach.

"Nick!" she called his fake name. He looked up and found her on top of the tunnel.

He nodded his head. It was a decent idea. It would provide them an elevated position and decent cover. There were breaks that allowed them to climb on top, but it wasn't easy getting up on a cylinder that large. And once on top he found that he felt like he was going to slide off.

O'Mara had more trouble getting up than he did. Jocelyn tapped him on the shoulder. "Switch with me."

"Uhm…" he hesitated. Frankly he was afraid to move. He looked down. The trampoline was directly under them, but that didn't really comfort him.

She gave a quiet chuckle and then moved in close to his side. "Just hold on then," she said and literally rolled up and over him.

O'Mara pulled himself up on to the tube and Janvier pulled in close to Quinn's side. "She is so agile and flexible," he purred. "You are a lucky man."

Quinn wanted to knock the guy off the tube, but gritted his teeth and said, "SO lucky!"

They lay there in silence for the last minute and scanned the twisted landscape below them, watching other teams take up positions.

A warning bell sounded and within seconds the lights started to dim. Chaos' voice boomed over a PA system, "Game on!"

Before Quinn could even get his night vision goggles positioned he heard a high-pressured splat.

"What the fuck?" O'Mara spat.

Quinn looked to his right where Jocelyn and O'Mara were positioned. Janvier popped up onto his knees, a hand gun pointed in their direction.

"Sorry, Mick. You're a huge, HUGE liability," Jocelyn said.

"Did you just shoot O'Mara?" Hardison asked.

"Fall where you die," she said, putting a hand on O'Mara's back.

"Killed your own team mate?" Chaos laughed. "I think I'm in love."

"Wait, wait!" Janvier said.

"What?" Jocelyn said, not taking her eyes off O'Mara.

"Get his guns first!"

"You heard the man, Mick."

There was some shouting and the sound of gunfire below them.

O'Mara held out his guns, one at a time. Janvier took the semi-automatic and all the clips and he and Jocelyn each took a hand gun. He tucked his into a pocket on his cargo pants.

"Tuck and slap out," Jocelyn said and pushed O'Mara off the tube. They watched as he did indeed tuck and when he hit the trampoline he flung his body out flat, slapping both hands on the mat.

"That was an interesting play, ma cherie," Janvier said.

"Don't put me in a corner if you're not willing to accept the consequences," she replied.

"Oh, I'm definitely in love," Chaos said.

"Shut up!" Hardison and Eliot said in stereo.

He felt a vibration in the tunnel below him. Several people were approaching from Jocelyn's side.

Jocelyn pointed at Janvier. "Wait for them to get in this segment," she said pointing to the cylinder under them.

He smiled. "Of course."

Jocelyn pulled herself to the edge of the tube, and he suddenly felt vulnerable. Janvier stared down at him for a moment and then gave him a truly evil smile. Quinn started thinking about how to defend himself while clinging to a slippery plastic cylinder.

"This is fun, yes?" he asked.

"SO fun!" Quinn replied.

Janvier laughed, dropped to his stomach and moved to the opposite end.

"Hey!" Jocelyn called him in a harsh whisper. "Move closer and get ready to grab on to my legs!"

He turned his body so he was stretched out lengthwise on the tube. It didn't feel any more secure than the other way. She watched him over her shoulder as he moved awkwardly closer to her.

He watched three men jump the gap in the tunnels and land in the tube below them. Jocelyn fired on the fourth one before he made the jump, splattering his chest with pink paint. The man called out a warning.

She slid forward so fast, Quinn almost missed her ankles. He held her firmly and looked over his shoulder. Janvier was gone. He heard paintballs hitting the sides of the tunnel along with a lot of colorful curses. Then it got quiet.

Jocelyn brought her torso up and pointed her gun at the fourth man and Quinn couldn't help but marvel at her abdominal strength.

"Time to lie down and die like good sports," Janvier said.

Quinn could just make out the fourth man around Jocelyn's body stretched out in front of him. He looked pissed, but he reached up and pressed the button on his vest and then lay down in the tunnel.

Jocelyn lowered her torso and checked the other tunnel then tucked her gun into her pants. She glanced at him, her hands gripping the edge of the tube. "You can let go now."

He released her and watched as she slid forward and flipped over the end of the tube, swinging her body backwards into the tunnel. "Sorry, boys," she said and Quinn smiled imagining that she had left boot marks on the other team.

He slid forward and hoped that he could just get down into the tunnel without making a fool of himself. When he swung down into the tunnel, Janvier held out a green armband to him. Quinn looked at the armband and then back at Janvier and then Jocelyn. They were both wearing green armbands under their pink ones.

Janvier shrugged. "It is tradition."

Quinn took the armband and fastened on his arm. He glanced at Jocelyn and noticed that she had sharp eyes on the man in the middle of the tunnel.

"This way!" Janvier said and jumped to the next tube.

Jocelyn nodded toward Janvier. "You go," she said not taking her eyes off the man.

Quinn stepped carefully over Green-3 and Green-2 watching them as closely as she was. As he stepped over Green-1 he saw the man reach out for his ankle, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Green-1 threw his ankle into the air and Quinn fell forward, his torso headed out into the air between the two tunnels.

He heard movement behind him, the sounds of some serious hand-to-hand combat. Quinn reached for the edge of the tunnel and gripped it. As he slid his body back into the tube, he saw Janvier standing in the other tunnel watching.

The tunnel was shaking with movement and he knew that Jocelyn was in a real fight. He felt hands on his legs, Green-1 was trying to pin him to the floor. He pushed up with his arms, bending his knees and swinging his right elbow into the man's face.

The man relaxed his grip long enough for Quinn to free his legs, but as he tried to reverse his position he felt a burning slash on his right thigh.

"Knife!" he called in warning to Jocelyn. Green-1 swung his arm back towards his torso, and Quinn arched his back to avoid taking the knife in his ribs.

He heard Jocelyn grunt in pain and his stomach turned over. He caught Green-1's wrist in his right hand and pinned it against the curved side of the tunnel. Then he threw a left jab at the man's face and followed through. The man slumped to the floor and Quinn pulled the knife free.

He got to his feet and looked at Jocelyn. Green-3 was lying motionless behind her. Green-2 had just tried to land a knee in her torso, but she jumped up and used the curve of the tunnel to go up and over the man's head then bring a vicious axe kick down on his collar bone. She spun her body around the man, planted her feet, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He struggled for a few moments, and then went unconscious. As the man fell forward she turned at look at Green-4 who was still lying on the floor in the other tube.

Green-4 held his arms up in a sign of surrender. "No trouble here."

She knelt next to Green-2 and came back up with a combat knife. Then she checked Green-3 for a pulse. Finally she looked at him. She was breathing hard and her face was shiny from sweat.

"You okay?" she asked.

He checked his thigh. The gash was about 4-inches long with moderate bleed. "I'll live. You?"

She held up her arm. It was the best place to block a knife, but still painful. One of the men had sliced down to her bone and she was bleeding more than he was comfortable with.

"Are you okay, Jocelyn?" Eliot asked.

She walked toward him, slipping the knife into a specially fitted pocket on the vest. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a field dressing.

"Are you okay, ma cherie?" Janvier called.

"I'm fine, no thanks to you," she growled in response. She handed the bandage to him and pressed the two halves of the cut together. Quinn tucked the knife in his vest and opened the bandage.

"What happened to security, Didier? I thought you were paying this outfit to protect us?" she snapped.

"Oh, I will complain, to be sure," Janvier replied.

Quinn applied the bandage. "You should probably sit the rest of this out, love."

"Yes," Janvier said. "Nicolas and I can finish this."

Jocelyn looked from him to Janvier. "Yeah, I don't think so."


	18. Chapter 18 - Together, Part Deux

**Eighteen: Together, Part Deux**

**Author's note: ** So, one of the toughest parts of writing this was staying true to Eliot's character. It was really difficult to get him to open up and talk about feelings. You'll see a little more of that in upcoming chapters. Anybody have any feedback on Eliot's character in this thing? Am I staying true or have I ruined him?

Soundtrack: _We're In This Together_ by Nine Inch Nails

"Apparently these guys don't know how to play dead," Winger said.

"What do you expect?" he growled. "They're hitters and mercenaries and there's cash on the table."

45 minutes into the game there were still twelve people active according to the leader board despite the fact that Winger had over 60 kills. Winger had hit some of them three times and they still wouldn't play dead.

"I've seen three game masters make sure players can't get up again," Nate said. "In that message you just said injure, right Hardison?"

"Yeah, of course."

"If we don't finish this thing soon, Didier," Jocelyn said, "I'm taking _myself_ out."

"Don't do that, ma cherie," Janvier replied.

"We hear you, Jocelyn," Nate said. "Eliot, see if you can't convince some of the walking dead to retire. There's one coming up on your six."

"I wouldn't mind getting some of that action," Dexter said.

"Yeah, of course…" Nate replied. "There are two players in the tunnels right above you."

By the hour mark, Eliot had taken out three players, Dexter two, and Team Pink had downed two. That left 5 players on the board. Jocelyn, Quinn, and Janvier, Gold-1, and Blue-3. But Jocelyn and Quinn were pretty much spent. Every team they came across went after Quinn.

"Nate, can you get me in position to take Janvier out next time he decides to conveniently disappear on his team?" Eliot asked.

"Behind you!" Nate called out suddenly.

Eliot heard the sound of another fight over the comm.

"Eliot! You need to get to that wooded area in the southwest corner. Fast!" Nate said.

He started running. Jocelyn cried out over the comms.

"I'm on my way!" he said.

Quinn cursed loudly. Eliot saw a tree shaking oddly. Then it started to fall.

Jocelyn let out a full battle cry and Eliot hoped she wasn't killing anybody. By the time he neared the trees, the sounds of the fight had stopped.

"Where are you?" Eliot asked quietly, moving through the trees.

"Trying to find some place to hide," Jocelyn replied her voice breathless and filled with pain.

"Here's some good news," Hardison said. "Gold-1 is down."

Eliot came across three bodies on the ground. All were wearing the orange vests of the game masters. He caught site of another orange vest slipping around a large boulder.

"I think you've got another game master on your trail," he said.

It sounded like she choked off a sob. "We can't do it!"

"You're so pretty," Quinn said, his voice slow and slurring words.

"Quinn's got a serious concussion," Jocelyn said, her voice barely a whisper. "And a broken arm."

Eliot ran faster. He wasn't close enough to the game master, so he yelled out. "Hey, buddy!"

The orange vest stopped, hesitated, and then turned to face him. Eliot slowed his approach. When he got within good fighting distance he said, "We've got reports about game masters beating up players. You know anything about that?"

The large man gave a deep laugh. "I was just going to ask you the same thing."

Eliot recognized the voice. "Colonel?" he said.

The man lifted the shield on his helmet. It was Colonel Michael Vance. The man Eliot had once worked for. The man that recruited him, Parker, and Hardison to stop a terror attack on D.C.

"Spencer, is that you?"

"I need a way out, guys. I can't protect him anymore!" Jocelyn said.

Eliot raised his helmet shield and stepped closer to Vance. "Seriously, Colonel, what are you doing here?"

"Winger!" Nate snapped. "Do you have a shot on Jocelyn and Quinn?"

"Again, I could ask you the same thing," Vance said to him.

"What…?!" Winger responded.

Vance lowered his voice. "You know how many terrorists are in this warehouse right now? And I'm not just talking about the players."

"You need to take them out of the game," Nate said.

"I'm just protecting some friends," Eliot responded.

"Oh…" Winger replied. "Yeah… give me a sec…"

"Why were you following those two?" Eliot asked.

"Pink-2 and Pink-3?" Vance asked, waving in Jocelyn's general direction. "Looks like they got ambushed back there. I think they're hurt."

"Jocelyn, turn to your 2 o'clock," Winger said.

There was the sound of two high pressured rounds.

Eliot rushed toward the sound. Vance followed.

"Blue-3 just went down!" Hardison said.

Chaos' voice came over the PA system. "Game over, losers!"

The lights started to come up just as he reached them. Quinn was lying unmoving, his head in Jocelyn's lap. She was holding her abdomen. She reached up and pressed the medic button and started to sway.

Eliot dropped to his knees beside her and caught her as she fell backwards.


	19. Chapter 19

**Nineteen: Drop in the Ocean**

Soundtrack: _Drop in the Ocean_ by Ron Pope

_It's just a drop in the ocean  
A change in the weather  
I was praying that you and me might end up together  
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert  
But I'm holding you closer than most 'cause you are my heaven_

"You're early," she said, retreating into the room.

He stepped into the room and let the door close. "I wanted to talk."

She walked away from him, disappearing into the bathroom. "What's to talk about?" she said. "Nate modified Plan B to remove Quinn and we're going with that..."

He stepped into the bathroom door way. "I'm not here to talk about the job."

She glanced at him through the mirror. It wasn't a kind look. "We've got nothing to talk about except the job."

He looked over her face. "You lost a lot of blood last night," he said, motioning to her abdomen. "You're still visibly pale. Are you sure you're up to this?"

"I'm fine," she replied.

"You're not fine," he said. "You've got broken ribs and a mild concussion from the night you brought me in. You've got multiple injuries from the fight with O'Mara and the game. I don't know how you're standing upright."

She looked at him through the mirror. "I want to finish this thing," she said flatly. "I'll worry about the injuries after."

He hadn't expected anything less. "And Quinn?" he asked, nodding toward the main part of the hotel room.

"Definitely not upright," she replied. "Can't even wake him."

He nodded. That was good for him. He took a step closer to her. "I'm no good with relationships, Jocelyn."

She exhaled. "Really? This is what you want to talk about right now?"

"I might not get another chance," he said. "I need to say some things..."

"No, you don't," she interrupted. "It's over. In the past."

"Hardison told me you how things were for you after..."

She paled a little more. "Please stop," she said softly. "This isn't going to help anything."

He stepped closer. They were less than 12 inches apart. "I'm sorry about that, Jocelyn. I wish I hadn't caused you any pain."

She swallowed hard. "It's okay, Eliot. I'm okay."

"It's not okay," he said. "I never should have let you go."

She ran her eyes over his face and he felt like she was really looking at him for the first time. "We tried. We tried our hardest. We couldn't make it work. It was time to move on."

"_You_ tried your hardest," he said.

Her jaw dropped open slightly like she was going to respond, but she didn't.

"I could have let you in," he said. "I could have given you more."

She shook her head, her eyes starting to fill with tears. "That's not you. That's not your nature."

She was repeating words he had spoken over and over in their fights. "It's **not** my nature. I can't share. I can't open up to people. And that worked for me for a lot of years."

It was hard for him to get the words out, but he couldn't face Janvier with the potential of one or both of them dying without telling her.

"But then I lost you because of it. And I found out that you are such a part of me that I cannot function without you…"

She rolled her eyes and then closed them pushing tears down her cheeks. "Don't do this, Eliot. It's not the time."

He took her hands and waited for her to open her eyes. "I was never scared to be alone until you left me."

She gritted her teeth and shook her head, but more tears streamed from her eyes. "You're a bastard," she said, her voice cracking. "Why are you doing this right now?"

Normally he'd be angry at those words, but this time he understood. "I wanted to do this earlier, but you wouldn't let me," he said making sure his voice was soft. "And we both know that there may not be a happy ending this afternoon. So, I need to say two things: Thank you for saving my life over and over again."

She stared at him with a sad, hopeless look.

The second part was more difficult to get out. "And you need to know that I have... I have loved you ever since Kalispell..."

She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I'm sorry I never told you… sorry that I lied to you about my feelings..." He waited for her to open her eyes. "I love you, Jocelyn, and I want you back in my life."

He released one of her hands and gently wiped away a few tears.

"Hey!" Quinn gave a screech-like yell from the other room. "You want my advice, doll?"


	20. Chapter 20 - Wicked Game

**Twenty: Wicked Game**

Soundtrack: _Wicked Game_ by Chris Isaak (I'm partial to Phillip Phillip's recording of it)

_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do._

He woke up to the sound of her voice and he smiled. But then he felt the pain. Physical pain. There was a pounding in his head so violent it turned his stomach. Sharp pain radiated from his arm, and he felt the bulky presence of an air cast. With each breath there was pain from both sides of his ribcage and in his low back. His face felt swollen and bruised. And underneath that symphony of sharp pain every muscle in his body was sore.

He remembered Janvier slipped into a stand of fake trees and three game masters appeared and surrounded them. Normally they could have taken the three guys, but they had been fighting off attackers for nearly an hour.

They managed to defend themselves for a few minutes; Jocelyn even took out one guy's knee. But then somebody slammed his head into a fake tree hard enough to topple it. Everything after that was a blur. He tried to protect himself but remembered excruciating pain as two men worked over his ribs and kidneys. He didn't remember much beyond that.

Then the emotional pain registered. Eliot was there and he was pouring his heart out to Jocelyn in a clear attempt to win her back. While she wasn't saying yes, she wasn't saying no either.

When he spoke his voice was rough from the pain. "Hey! You want my advice, doll?" he yelled.

She came out of the bathroom and walked toward him. "Quinn?"

He waited for her to reach his side. "Never look back."

Eliot appeared and stopped several feet away from the bed. He had never seen Eliot look that good. He was wearing an expensive navy suit with a platinum dress shirt and black dress loafers. No trade mark belt buckle or leather bracelet or boots.

He looked back at Jocelyn. She was wearing black slacks and an evergreen dress shirt. Her hair was pulled up and pinned at her neck and she was wearing a holster and gun.

They were getting ready for a meet with Janvier.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough. Tell me you're not seriously considering taking him back."

She shook her head, "Quinn don't."

"Don't make that mistake, Jocelyn."

"This is none of your business," Eliot snapped.

"Enough with the pissing contest!" Jocelyn snapped. "Now is not the time! If we don't get our shit together Janvier is going to kill us all! So you need to pack away all these emotions until the job is done. Think you can do that girls?"

An angry silence filled the room. Quinn glared at Jocelyn. He felt something more than anger slide over his body. Jealousy, anger, and rage were combining into something dark and he struggled to control it.

"It's his fault!" he said. "You just had to run in here and try to talk while I was unconscious? No thought for how it would affect us?!"

"Quinn, you're not thinking straight," Jocelyn said an icy calm in her voice.

"You're here for a job, Quinn. That's all! Just do your job!" Eliot snarled.

"I'm done with both of you," Jocelyn said walking away.

Eliot glared at him for a few moments and then moved his eyes to Jocelyn. "What are you doing?"

Quinn pushed up to his elbows so he could see her. A fresh wave of pain and nausea rolled over him.

"I'm calling Dexter," she snapped. "I can count on my team to finish this."

Eliot walked toward her. "You cannot finish this job with Dexter and Winger," he said calmly.

She nodded her head agitatedly. "Just watch me, Spencer."

Eliot snatched the phone from her hand.

"Hey!" she yelled, reaching for his hand. Eliot held her off with one hand and kept the phone out of her reach with the other. In frustration she started to punch his torso. Eliot tossed the phone on the bed near Quinn and when Jocelyn went towards it he grabbed her and pinned her arms to her side. She growled.

"You're scared, Jocelyn," he said.

"Of course I'm scared! Janvier is a sociopath! Nate thinks he can predict what Janvier will do but he can't! He has all these plans but they didn't help Quinn when both sides turned on us!"

Eliot released her and tried to turn her to face him, but she wouldn't move. She was staring at Quinn. Eliot stepped around to see her face. "It's okay," he said. "We're going to take care of Janvier."

She moved her eyes from him to Eliot. "We're not in control here, Eliot. Janvier is. And he's really good at pulling strings." She moved her eyes back to him. "And I don't think Quinn is going to be much help in his state."

"Because of a little concussion and a broken arm?" he said. "I've done less with more."

She frowned at him. He tried to give her his sexy smile but his face hurt.

"I don't think you're physically able," she said.

"Try me," he said with a smaller, less painful smile.

"I'm talking about stuff that requires you to get out of bed," she said.

Quinn gently threw the covers off and put his feet on the floor. His head spun and his stomach twisted. He moaned.

She sighed and got some medicine from bottles on the bedside table. She held her hand out to him, palm open.

"What are they?" he asked.

"Painkiller," she said pointing to the tablet that he recognized, "and Dexter's hangover cure," she said pointing at the gray and pink capsule.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It's good for dizziness and nausea. Seriously. I've been taking them pretty much around the clock since this thing started."

He frowned at her but took the pills and then drank the bottle of water she handed him. She helped him to the bathroom and then left him alone for several minutes. It was a mistake to leave him alone. All he could think about was her going back to Eliot. Eliot holding her, kissing her, making love to her.

The pounding in his head reached a crescendo and he turned to the toilet just in time to throw up.

After he flushed, she returned. His stomach was still heaving, so he kept his back to her – kept his face pointed at the toilet bowl. She ran some water and put a cool washcloth on his neck.

"Does that help at all?" she asked her voice soft.

"Yeah." What really helped was feeling her hands on his shoulders. When she moved one hand to his head and began stroking his hair, he had to swallow back his tears.

Surely the emotional storm he was feeling was a result of the concussion. He was wildly swinging from anger to sadness to deep physical longing. It was unbearable.

She leaned over him, putting her lips near his ear. "I'll get you to a hospital as soon as we take care of Janvier. Can you make it that long?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Just help me get dressed."

"Quinn, no…"

He put an edge on his voice. "You might need me, Jocelyn. Help me get ready."

She hesitated, her hand still stroking his hair. Then she started to move to the door.

"Bring more painkillers."

He took a few deep breaths and decided his stomach was settled enough to try and pee. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but the pain was so intense he almost passed out.

He listened to their hushed voices as he stood up slowly and stepped to the sink. He barely recognized his own face there were so many bruises. He splashed cold water on his face with his one hand and listened to them some more. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but the tone suggested they were arguing.

He was really fed up with the whole thing. The drama. The working with a team. Especially tired of getting the shit beat out of him just for being near her. He looked at his face. They really weren't paying him enough.

She raised her voice. She was probably the most amazing woman he'd ever met, and he barely knew her. But was she worth fighting for? Was she worth dying for?

And if he did fight for her did he even have a chance? Eliot had realized his mistake and was fighting for her too. And she had said she still loved him.

She had said no such thing to him. What he had with her was built on acting and sex. Fantastic sex, but just sex.

It was only a matter of time before she went back to Eliot.

She returned carrying a fresh pair of boxers, gray slacks, a black shirt, the medicine bottles, and a bottle of water. He grabbed the painkillers and poured several into his hand. She put her hand on his.

"Two is enough if you're serious about helping," she said.

He disagreed, but just took two. Followed by the Dexter special. She helped him get dressed and then led him back to the bed. Eliot was standing at the balcony door, his back to them. She put his socks and shoes on him and then stood up.

He noticed for the first time extra bulk on her abdomen. "What happened?"

"Knife."

He looked into her eyes. "Did they ruin my initials?"

She gave him a slight smile. "Came close, but no, your scar is still there."

"Your luck is going to run out one of these days, doll."

"Time to go," Eliot said, moving to the foot of the bed.

She nodded, retrieved something from the table and returned to him. She held out the earpiece and the remote detonator to him.

"Nate will cue you if he decides we need you," she said.

He wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed it gently. He looked into her eyes. "Be careful," he said softly.

She ran her eyes over his face and then gave him a sad smile. "Always am."

He pulled his hand away bringing the devices with him. He watched as she grabbed her jacket from a chair and followed Eliot out the door.

Emotions rolled over him. Fear – something was going to go wrong. Anger – she had set him up and was using him. Sadness – he might never see her again. Anger again – stupid Eliot. If Eliot would have taken care of his own business instead of hiding like a little girl he would still be enjoying his simple, relatively carefree life. More anger – why had he accepted the job? He should have disappeared the moment he realized she was involved.

And she didn't care about him. Only about Eliot. They all only cared about Eliot.

A sudden moment of clarity.

For the first time in three days he didn't have to spend time thinking about his motivation. He just had to let Quinn back in. Primary objective: save his own skin. Secondary objective: take the money and run.

He got up and retrieved his holster, gun, and suppressor from the room safe. He stopped in the bathroom and took two more painkillers then removed the air cast. He struggled with the holster and the scorching pain that came with every movement until he had broken out in a fine sweat.

After resting for a few minutes he grabbed his phone and made a call. Only then did he put the earpiece in and turn it on.

_What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.  
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you._

_~ Wicked Game _by Chris Isaak ~


	21. Chapter 21 - The One

**Twenty-One: The One**

Soundtrack: _The One I Love_ by David Gray

Jocelyn looked at him and gave him a smile. "Damn, Spencer, you should wear a suit more often."

He wanted to respond, but didn't know how. She had shut him down so completely he didn't know how to interpret the statement.

She unbuttoned her suit coat, popped the snap on her holster, and walked out of the elevator. He waited.

"Gentlemen," she said. "We have a meeting with your boss."

Eliot stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall. He took three steps before either guard reacted.

Jocelyn was standing a few feet in front of the men. "Don't go for the guns boys," Jocelyn said. "We're not here to hurt you or your boss."

Eliot came to a stop on her left and examined the guards. They were different than the ones he encountered previously. The one to his left was tall and broad with dark hair and dark skin. The one to the right was shorter and older but just as fit, with pale skin, graying hair, and a square jaw. Both were wound so tightly that a sneeze would set them off.

Square jaw looked them. "You'll have to surrender your weapons."

"The hell we will," Jocelyn said. She looked up at the camera over the doorway. "Do you really want to make an enemy of Arden Doyle?"

The double doors opened and Janvier stood there with his arms open as if he was welcoming old friends. Of course there were two men behind him pointing enormous guns at them.

"This is going to be a most interesting meeting," Janvier said, stepping to the side and motioning them in.

Jocelyn entered and he followed, trying to watch every man as he moved. As they passed, Janvier motioned at square jaw. Eliot glanced over his shoulder and saw Janvier whispering something.

He didn't like it.

Jocelyn walked into the living area, and went right to the balcony door and opened it. That was part of plan C and plan G. Then she put her back to it. Eliot stood next to her. Three more men were stationed in the living room and already had guns pointed at them.

Janvier entered the room and headed for the bar. The two trailing gunmen took up positions so that he and Jocelyn were facing a semi-circle of five shooters, the closest standing ten feet away.

"Feeling claustrophobic?" Janvier asked.

"Smells like a frat house in here," Jocelyn responded.

Janvier eyed her. "Or perhaps you have a sniper on the roof across the way."

Eliot clenched his jaw. That was Plan G.

"Perhaps _Arden_ does," Jocelyn said. "He doesn't tell me everything."

Janvier stared at her for a moment and then smiled. "Would you like a drink, ma cherie?"

"Stop calling me that."

Janvier laughed. "I'll take that as a no." He glanced at Eliot. "What about you, old friend?"

"Maybe when we're done with business."

Janvier took his time dropping ice in a glass and mixing a drink. "I suppose Melissa has told you why I put the contract on you."

"She did," he said. "And I'm not the one you're looking for. You know me better than that."

"Ah, but I don't," Janvier said turning to face them. "I knew the old Eliot Spencer, but this new one that is going around saving people and righting wrongs… him I do not know."

"Neither do I," he replied. "Because I'm not that guy."

Janvier raised an eyebrow looking intrigued. "Really? Then who are you?"

"Oh shit," Nate said over the comms. A cold shiver raced down his spine. He'd never heard Nate cuss in the middle of job.

"I'm Arden Doyle."

Janvier's five hitters looked back and forth between him and Janvier. Janvier studied him carefully and then laughed. "I do not believe it."

"Believe it," Quinn said stepping into the room, pointing a suppressed gun at him. "I've seen him in action."

He instinctively squared up to Quinn. Jocelyn jerked her head towards Quinn and her jaw dropped open. "Quinn…?" Her voice was heavy with concern and confusion.

Quinn smiled at her and not in a friendly way. "Just couldn't sit this one out, doll."

"Quinn," Nate said sharply, "What are you doing?"

Eliot took a quick scan. Two of the guns were raised and pointed at Quinn. The other three guns were just as confused as Jocelyn. One was pointed at him, one at Jocelyn, and one was so confused his weapon was pointing at the couch. Janvier was leaning against the desk and smiling. Janvier met his eyes, smiled, and raised his glass.

Eliot scowled.

Quinn moved farther into the room but kept all the gunmen between them. "And now that you know who he really is, I'll be expecting a bigger paycheck."

"To eliminate one of my largest competitors?" Janvier said. "I will double the price."

Now all the guns were pointed at them. Quinn was smiling.

"Whatever you're doing," Nate said, "You better do it fast."

"You're making a huge mistake, darling," Jocelyn said, a new edge in her voice.

"I'm sure you think so, doll, considering I'll be killing not only your boss but your lover."

Another cold chill ran over his spine, and the adrenaline in his system doubled.

"Oh, bloody hell…!" Sophie cursed.

Janvier pushed off the desk and stepped towards Jocelyn. "Too delicious," he cooed. "Melissa, ma cherie, I want you to know that there is a place for you in my organization once Doyle is dead."

Jocelyn turned her head toward Janvier.

"And in my bed," Janvier added with a smarmy smile.

"Not in this lifetime," she said and turned her head towards Quinn.

Quinn pointed the gun at her. Eliot yelled, "No!"

Quinn fired. Jocelyn stumbled backwards. Eliot felt a sharp pain in his chest. The pain grew into a sound in his throat that he had no control over.

Another shot. Jocelyn's torso twisted and Eliot's knees buckled. The sound in his throat moved up and out his mouth.

The final shot. Jocelyn fell backwards.

He put his arms out and caught her. His knees gave way and he fell to the floor with her. His keening continued as he watched her give a final, rattling exhale.

He stared at her as the keening faded. He was surprised to feel tears building in his eyes. He had never had this much trouble controlling his emotions.

"Merde!" Janvier cursed. "You did not have to kill her!"

"Were you not listening?" Quinn snapped. "She chose **him** over **me**!"

Eliot lowered Jocelyn to the floor and tried hard not to blink. He put his eyes on Quinn and put his fingers on the seam of his jacket where the remote was hidden.

The corner of Quinn's mouth edged up into a malicious smirk. "That will do."

Quinn pulled the trigger. One. A burst of crimson on his shirt. He turned his torso so he would fall close to her.

Two. Another burst of crimson and he started falling.

Three. The final explosion on his chest. He spun slightly so that his chest hit the floor first, his legs sprawled. He turned his head towards her and let his eyes close.

_Don't see Elysium  
Don't see no fiery hell  
Just the lights up bright baby  
In the bay hotel_

~ _The One I Love_ by David Gray ~


	22. Chapter 22 - The One, Part Deux

**Twenty-Two: The One, Part Deux**

Soundtrack: _The One I Love_ by David Gray

He was surprised at how much seeing her lying there affected him. The crimson marks against the emerald shirt. The paling skin. The way her head was turned slightly toward Eliot. There was a tremor in his stomach and he had to look away.

Obviously neither the pain killers nor Dexter's drug were working. He felt nauseous, dizzy, and he was in so much pain he had broken out in a sweat again.

He was also surprised that there were no voices in his head. He wondered if Ford had a plan for this. He laughed.

He looked at Eliot and laughed.

He checked Janvier's men. All five had lowered their weapons. Two were staring at the bodies. The other three looked back and forth between him and Janvier. He laughed.

He looked at Janvier and laughed.

"What is so funny?" Janvier asked.

"I can't believe I get paid for this!" he laughed.

He was still holding his gun with his left hand. It pained him to do it, but he pulled his phone from his pants with his right hand. He internalized each painful movement. He typed in his code and then opened the document that had the number. He held it out to Janvier.

"Here's where you can wire the money."

Janvier took the phone, looked at him, and then looked at one of his guards.

Quinn laughed again. He might have sounded a little maniacal. It was hard to tell in his condition.

"You're not really thinking about a double cross, are you?" he asked, still chuckling.

He slipped his right hand back into his pocket and fingered the remote detonator.

The end table exploded in a controlled but spectacular fashion. Several men yelled in surprise. Debris flew in a five foot arc, two of Janvier's men taking the brunt of it. The fire alarm sounded and the sprinklers started shooting water.

Janvier stepped away from him, an unsure look on his face. Quinn held the detonator up where everyone could see it and laughed a little more.

"Do you want to find out how many more there are?"

Janvier smiled. "Can I interest you in joining my team, Monsieur Quinn?"

"Are you kidding? After attempting a double cross?" he said as calmly as he could. "Just transfer the money so I can get out of here before the various authorities start showing up."

Janvier maintained the smile and pulled his own phone out. Quinn holstered the gun and switched the detonator to his left hand. He exhaled through the pulsating pain coming from his right arm.

After a few moments, Janvier handed the phone back to him. "It is done."

Quinn made a call and confirmed the money was where it should be. He slid the phone back into his pocket.

"Good doing business with you," he said with a nod and moved toward the door. Janvier's men eyed him. He waved good-bye to them with the detonator.

Behind him Janvier started issuing orders in French about packing up and getting out.

Quinn walked out the door, past two more guards, and towards the stairwell. He opened the door and walked into a group of large men in full body armor and one rather small man in a suit.

"Well that was interesting," Sterling said.

Sterling grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him farther into the stairwell, and pushed up against that cinderblock wall. Sterling held out his hand and the large man in combat gear next to him handed him a pair of cuffs.

It was in his nature to resist. But he was clearly outnumbered, was barely able to keep himself upright, and was having trouble thinking straight. He leaned his head back and breathed through the pain as Sterling put the cuffs on.

"Go get me Janvier, Colonel Vance," Sterling said.

The big man nodded and motioned toward the door and eight well-armed men stormed the penthouse. Quinn closed his eyes and listened. There was yelling and some gunfire, but it didn't last very long.

Vance returned and Sterling pushed Quinn back down the hallway and into the penthouse. He had trouble making his legs work.

"Tough day, Quinn?" Sterling asked.

"Couple of 'em," he replied.

Much of the team was standing in the hallway with Janvier's men in cuffs. Quinn counted two dead men as Sterling pushed him through the door and into the living room. Thankfully someone had turned off the fire alarm and sprinklers.

Sterling stopped him near Jocelyn. He looked down at her. She was soaked, the blood mixing with the water and staining the carpet under her. He noticed fresh blood on her abdomen. The pressure bandage from her new knife wound couldn't hold in the water.

"Nice work, Mr. Quinn," Sterling said.

His legs started to shake and he fell to his knees beside her.

"So I'm supposed to believe that Eliot Spencer and Arden Doyle are the same person?" Sterling said.

"**Were** the same person," a deep male voice that Quinn didn't recognize responded.

"Yeah, right," Sterling replied.

He stared at her. The intense pain in his body, the drugs he had taken, and the sight of her pale face left him feeling disoriented.

There were footsteps behind him.

"This the one you wanted, Colonel?" another male voice asked.

Quinn really wanted her to open her eyes. He wanted to escape his pain in them. Wanted to get lost in them. Lost forever.

"Sterling?"

"I guess if I can't have Arden Doyle," Sterling said with a heavy exhale. "Yes, Interpol will take custody of Monsieur Janvier."

He stared at her. If she would just open her arms to him. He could rest there. He could spend the rest of his life there.

"And I get Quinn," the deep voice said.

"He's all yours," Sterling replied.

His head was too heavy for his neck. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Even breathing was difficult.

He stared at her. If he could just lie down with her… could get lost between her legs one more time… then he could die a happy man.

_There's things I might have said  
Only wish I could  
Now I'm leaking life faster  
Then I'm leaking blood _

~ _The One I Love_ by David Gray ~


	23. Chapter 23 - Be

**Twenty-Three: Be**

Soundtrack: _I'll Be_ by Edwin McCain

Time passes slowly when you're dead. It seemed to take 30 minutes to clear the room once Sterling left. Vance gave him the signal by putting his boot into his side. Eliot opened his eyes and looked at him.

Vance grinned. "That was fun."

He sat up slowly. "For you maybe." He was soaked. Everybody was soaked. He put his hand on Jocelyn's hand. Her skin was cold. She was probably hating it.

She opened her eyes and then released a shiver. She sat up slowly and looked at Quinn who was kneeling beside her staring blankly and looking like he was in shock.

"Damn it, Quinn!" he barked. "What the hell was that?"

Quinn kept his vacant stare on Jocelyn. "Plan Q," he replied with a weird laugh.

Jocelyn sat up and looked up at Vance. "Who has the keys?"

Vance handed her the keys and Jocelyn unlocked the handcuffs and then helped Quinn to his feet. Quinn wobbled and Vance stepped in to help. They set him down on the couch.

"That was an interesting mash-up of plans," Jocelyn said.

Quinn looked up at her. "You were right. Janvier was in control. So I put us in control."

"You put yourself in control," he corrected, getting to his feet.

Quinn shrugged.

"You're lucky you didn't get yourself killed!" Jocelyn scolded. "You can barely walk and you came in here carrying a gun that shoots blanks?!"

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," Quinn replied.

Nate and Parker walked in wearing coroner jackets and pushing gurneys. Vance insisted that they complete the illusion to give his team plausible deniability. A few minutes later Dexter and Winger arrived with FBI credentials under the pretense that they would be taking custody of Quinn.

"And now I can go," Vance said. Vance paused and then looked at him. "We're going to go take down Trident Global now. I expect they'll give us a real fight. You wanna come along?"

Eliot glanced at Jocelyn and then shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I've got some things to wrap up here."

Vance nodded and shook his hand. "It was good working with you again."

"Thanks for your help, Colonel."

Nate detailed the job close down and exit as Jocelyn talked with Quinn, Dexter, and Winger. Then Nate left with Parker, and Dexter and Winger took Quinn to the hospital.

They were left alone. Staring at each other in awkward silence. She was totally drenched and still damn beautiful. He moved closer to her.

"You ready to get out of here?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I'm staying here with Quinn."

He felt like he'd been shot for real. "What?"

"I'm going to make sure he's okay."

"It's been four days, Jocelyn," he snapped. "You can't love him."

She shook her head in angry disbelief. "Who said anything about love?"

"Then what **are** you saying?"

"He's injured," she said. "He needs somebody to take care of him."

"I'm sure he has… _somebody_."

"You don't know," she said shaking her head.

"And you do?" he snapped.

"I know more than you do…!" She stopped and gave an angry exhale. "This is stupid, I'm leaving."

She turned and walked for the door.

"Jocelyn, don't leave!" he blurted out.

She stopped, but kept her back to him.

It was not going at all the way he wanted. He knew he had to change it. He didn't like it, but went down the road anyway.

"Do you still love me?" he asked.

She turned slowly and looked at him. "That's not fair, Eliot."

He closed the distance between them. "Do you still love me, Jocelyn?"

"Of course I do."

"Then you have to give me another chance."

She stared at him for a moment. "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results."

"It won't be the same," he said. "I've changed."

"You haven't changed."

"I've learned," he countered. "I know now that you are the most important thing in my life."

She stared at him for a long time. "But I've moved on, Eliot. I have a different life now… and… and it's getting better. It has potential."

"Does that different life include Quinn?" he asked.

She exhaled. "In the short term, yes. I'm sorry if that hurts you."

The muscles in his chest tightened. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "What about the long term?"

"I don't know."

"Please, give us a second chance."

She looked at him for a long time. "I'll think about it." She stared at him for a few more moments, and then motioned toward the door. "I've got to go."

She took a few steps but he called her back. "Kiss me," he said. She turned and gave him a blank stare. "You don't leave without a goodbye kiss. That's one of your rules."

He used to think it was a stupid rule, but now he saw the wisdom in it.

She exhaled and walked slowly back to him. She hesitated and then tentatively pressed her lips to his, her eyes open in a replay of the kiss she'd left him with when their relationship ended.

This time though, as she pulled away he put his hands on her hips and pulled her back. He angled his head and applied more pressure with his lips until she closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

He moved one arm around her waist and the other up her back until their bodies were pressed together. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders. The familiarity of having her in his arms moved him to tears. Her body melted into his and he was certain he could have taken her right there on the cold, wet floor.

But Hardison's words were fresh. Eliot didn't want to take advantage and make things more painful for her. He ended the kiss, but held her firmly for a few minutes. Then he pulled away and looked in her eyes. They were filled with tears.

"When he shot you," he said softly, "my brain knew it wasn't real. But my body… I couldn't control it… I can't…" He struggled to put his emotions into words and then struggled more to actually say them. "I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt… can't bear the thought of losing you again."

Tears started rolling down her cheeks.

He exhaled, his throat burning with the emotions. "You once said I was the only constant in your life. Well, I still am, Jocelyn. I'll be here for you no matter what. And I will wait for you for as long as it takes."

She took the earpiece out of her ear and put it in his hand. "I'll always love you, Eliot."

He watched her walk away.

_And I've dropped out, I've burned up, I've fought my way back from the dead.  
I've tuned in, turned on, remembered the things that you said_

~ _I'll Be _by Edwin McCain ~


	24. Chapter 24 - Daylight

**Twenty-Four: Daylight**

Soundtrack: _Daylight_ by Maroon 5

"You're staring at me, aren't you?" she said.

"Of course," he replied. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "You're body is doing wonderful things in the moonlight."

"You're incorrigible." She moved so that her body was pressed against his.

He wrapped his newly healed arm around her and moved his fingers over her curves and thought about the last two months.

She was very clear from the beginning that she was only staying until he could care for himself. And when he could care for himself she was only staying for a couple more weeks to tie up some loose ends. And when the loose ends were taken care of he talked her into staying longer to help with his physical therapy.

"I am," he said with a smile.

It had been the most enjoyable two months of his adult life. They stayed at his Monterey beach house spending their days sailing or reading on the beach or just watching movies together. And the nights… they cooked, they danced on the deck under the stars, they held each other. And the sex… stellar.

He couldn't stand the thought of her leaving. His stomach twisted and a lump of emotion formed in his throat.

"You still insist on leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice soft.

"Where you gonna go?"

"Back to Rio," she said.

"Not Portland?"

Her body tensed slightly. "No. Not Portland."

"Why Rio?"

"I had some uhm... things going there..."

"Jobs?"

"No. I'm retired."

"Capoeira?"

"Yes."

"And...?" he prodded.

"I'm taking some... classes."

"Like at the university?"

"No, it's nothing formal," she said.

"Then what is it?"

She looked at him. "Why do I feel like I'm being interrogated?"

"Just talking, love," he said and ran his hand over the small of her back. He had tried to banish the term of endearment from his vocabulary once the job was complete, but he couldn't. She never called him on it. "Isn't that what people do?"

She kept her eyes on his face. "Just fun stuff, like cooking and art."

"And that's it?" he said.

"I'm trying to learn the language too."

He didn't know if she was playing coy or if she really didn't understand his vague questions. "You got some young Brazilian stud tucked away helping with that?" She responded with a comical frown. "Wearing a Speedo... big chest gleaming with suntan oil... tiny little... waist...?"

She laughed. "No. That was the last thing I wanted when I down there."

"Well, I haven't seen the movie, but it sounds like you were doing some kind of _Eat, Pray, Love_ thing."

"You know that was a book first, right?"

He laughed. "Oh no, have I offended a cherished cultural icon of yours?"

She gave him a wry smile. "No, never read it; never saw it."

In Portuguese he asked, "But you were on some kind of journey of self discovery?"

She smiled broadly. "Yes."

"Was it working?"

"It was," she said wistfully. She put her head back on his chest. "But now, being back here... I'm feeling a little lost again."

After a few moments of silence he said in English, "You say that you left Eliot because he wasn't happy..."

Her body tensed again at the mention of his name.

"Yes," she said.

"What about you, Jocelyn? Were you happy?"

She answered quickly, "In the beginning."

He nodded his head slightly. "You did work some shit out, didn't you?"

"You're sounding like a shrink again," she said.

"And how does that make you feel?"

She did what she usually did when she wanted him to squirm. She moved her hand down to the area just above his hip and squeezed. He laughed and squirmed appropriately and when she was satisfied she moved her hand back up to his chest.

They laid in silence for several minutes. He thought about all the things he hadn't told her.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked, his voice caught in his throat.

"What?" she asked.

He cleared his throat; tried to will away the tightness there. "Will I ever see you again?"

Her body tensed slightly. "I don't know."

"It's not fair, Jocelyn. I want more time with you."

"I've already stayed longer than I planned…"

"Eliot got years!"

Her body tensed some more. She pulled away from him, sat up, and looked in his face. "This is not a competition between you and Eliot."

"Yes it is," he said. "You might try to focus on learning the language or painting in Rio. But we'll be there. You'll see something and think of me or hear something and think of him. Subconsciously you'll be measuring us, deciding who you want to be with."

"I might be happier alone."

"You'll be happier with me, Jocelyn." She just stared at him and he felt compelled to continue. "Eliot is a tortured soul. Right now he's tortured over loosing you. But you go back to him and he'll eventually return to all the things that were torturing him before - the things that made him so unhappy you left him in the first place.

"Don't you see? You can't change that. And you can't save him."

Tears were filling her eyes and he hoped they weren't for Eliot. He reached up and gently touched the side of her face.

"Give me some more time, Jocelyn. Let me show you how happy we can be together."

She gave him a sad smile, put her hand over his and leaned her cheek against them. "How did you miss that I'm a tortured soul too."

"You're not," he replied. She looked into his eyes. "You can play that part, but it's not who you really are. That's why you had so much trouble dealing with his darkness. You, Jocelyn, are basically a being of light. Especially now."

She blushed. "I can't think straight when you say things like that." She pulled his hand down to cradle it in both of hers. She stared at their hands.

"Then here's another… I love you, Jocelyn."

Her eyes snapped up to his face; she looked surprised. She looked almost scared. "You don't, Beau."

"I do. I didn't want to tell you yet, but you're leaving me no choice."

She looked at him for a long time.

"The meeting with Janvier… it was such a blur for me," he said. "The pain, the drugs… But the part with me shooting you, that played over and over in my head when I was in the hospital. I thought I had really killed you. I woke up screaming…"

"I know," she said softly.

He nodded. She had been there. "When I finally got well enough to realize it wasn't real… when I woke up and found you asleep in that chair beside my bed… it was the most amazing thing…" His voice got caught in his throat. He swallowed hard and forced the words out. "I knew then that I had fallen in love with you."

Tears started slipping from her eyes. "It's a mistake," she said softly. "Loving me is a mistake."

"I know. You're a total chore," he said with a slight smile.

"I'm serious, Beau."

"I know. You think you're broken. And you're right. But so am I. We're all broken, Jocelyn. You don't get to be this age without having some serious issues. Especially in our profession.

"But I accept you just the way you are. And if you can forgive me for trying to kill you a couple years back," he smiled at her, "I think we can have a happy life together."

She wiped the tears away with one hand, but kept her other hand wrapped around his. "You make it sound so easy," she said. "It's never that easy."

"Why are you being so stubborn?" he asked. She just stared at him. He exhaled, "Have you been happy these past two months?"

"Yes, but it's a beginning. The beginning is easy."

"It's not a beginning, Jocelyn. It's an ending. Unless you change your mind about us, this is the end."

_Here I am staring at your perfection  
In my arms, so beautiful  
The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out  
Somebody slow it down_

~ _Daylight _by Maroon 5 ~


	25. Chapter 25 - Gone

**Twenty-Five: Gone**

Soundtrack: _Grace is Gone _by Dave Matthews

**Author's Note: ** My apologies for taking so long to post this. I have had a difficult time deciding on a resolution for this fic. And then on this particular resolution, I wanted _more_. But I just haven't been able to _feel_ it, if any of you writers out there can relate. So, one of the coolest things about fan fics is the flexibility which allows me to reach back to my childhood and pull out the old "choose-your-own ending". This ending is the one that I think most readers are wanting. Hope you enjoy!

_So take my eyes, take my heart, I need them no more…  
If never again they fall upon the one I so adore_

He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there. Time wasn't that important to him lately. He looked out at the water and watched it for a few moments. Lake Michigan was angry, churning up 4-foot waves. The wind was merciless, buffeting him until he could barely move his fingers. He stared at the ominous gray clouds moving in over the water. A storm was on its way.

It didn't matter much to him. He had been spending much of his "vacation" sitting in the cold rain and drinking beer. He moved his hands over the guitar. It would have to go inside when the rain started.

He had bought this house back when they were together, wanting to surprise her with it. He was sure she would love it. At least in the summer months. She considered Chicago her home and was always drawn to the lake. But he had never found the time to bring her here before things started to fall apart.

This was the first time since he bought it that he had spent any time in it. Hardison had set up a front company that rented it and it had made Eliot some good money through the years. It was a beautiful property right on Lake Michigan near Union Pier. The main house had enough room to sleep 10 people with two fireplaces, a fitness room, in-ground pool, hot-tub, and basketball court.

But the guest house was more his style. Smaller and closer to lake, it couldn't be seen from the main house unless you walked down the stairs to the secluded beach. It was a modest little house with an open floor plan, a full bar, and a brick patio perfect for sitting and watching the lake. And drinking.

They had worked hard for four months to establish Leverage International. They completed several jobs and he felt good working again. But as the months passed and his hope faded, life became more difficult. It was tough to accept that she wasn't coming back.

He finally broke down and called Nate. After a long talk, Nate suggested he take some time off to come up with his own resolution.

_"You have to move on, Eliot. One way or the other."_

He slid his cold fingers over the guitar strings and started playing chords from a favorite Dave Matthews song.

_Excuse me please, one more drink. Could you make it strong cuz I don't need to think…_

But he **did** need to think. He **needed** a resolution.

Hardison had called and said that someone had rented the main house and would be arriving today. He heard the car arrive several hours ago, but hadn't heard much else. Now he smelled smoke from the chimney. If he was lucky the storm would keep them from venturing down to the lake and he could brood in peace for the remainder of the day.

_One drink to remember then another to forget…_

And tomorrow he would leave.

He had a choice: go find her and win her back or move on without her. He was in a much better place than when she had come to his rescue. He knew he could live without her. But he would never love again. Not like he loved her.

_How could I ever dream of finding sweet love like you again?_

Had she really chosen Quinn over him? Was she still with him four months later? The thought was too much for him to bear.

He stopped playing, and gripped the neck of the guitar with his left hand. He dropped his head down over it and closed his eyes against the tears.

It was his fault, he knew that. She was his and he had taken her for granted. He had driven her away.

He shook his head. But after the Three Hitter Job he had opened himself to her, had told her it would be different this time. And she still left with Quinn.

_She broke my heart, my Grace is gone…_

"Are you crying?"

He snapped his head up towards her voice. He blinked several times, clearing the tears from his eyes. He couldn't believe it…

"Jocelyn?"

A sudden warmth filled his body. His heart stuttered just a little.

She was standing on the path that ran beside the guest house and down to the beach. He couldn't see much of her because she was wrapped in a thick blanket. Her hair danced around her face in the lake-driven wind.

She smiled at him, stepped off the path and onto his patio. He set the guitar on the bricks and stood up on shaky legs.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She nodded toward the main house. "I'm on vacation. Rented your house."

He smiled slightly. "Damn it, Hardison."

She smiled in response. "You couldn't have chosen somewhere warm?"

He shrugged. "The lake… you…" He had difficulty putting words together and pushing them past the tightness in his throat.

She stepped closer, now within his reach. "I liked the song… can I hear some more?"

He shook his head slightly and tears slid down his cheeks. He wiped them away. "Maybe later," he choked out softly.

She stared at him for a few moments. "Tell me again it's going to be different."

"It's going to be different. I promise."

She opened her arms and pulled him into the warmth of her blanket. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her body against his. She leaned in to kiss him, but he pulled his head back. She raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a concerned look.

"I love you, Jocelyn," he said. "I always have."

She looked at his eyes for a moment and then responded. "I never stopped loving you."

He kissed her.

_I could never love again, so much as I love you  
Where you end, where I begin  
Is like a river going through…  
~ Grace is Gone _by Dave Matthews ~

**Author's Note**: If you like this ending, I recommend you leave it at that and don't bother with any alternative resolutions that I might post after this. Thanks all for reading and thanks especially for the reviews!


	26. Chapter 26 - Gone, Gone, Gone

**Twenty-Six: Gone, Part Deux**

Soundtrack: _Gone, Gone, Gone_ by Phillip Phillips

**Author's Note**: Here's an alternate resolution that I played with. But, again, if you liked the previous resolution I advise against reading this one.

He lost track of how long he had been there. He was so lost in thoughts of her that he hadn't even noticed the sun slipping away behind him.

He got up and started walking. It was the perfect stretch of beach to be alone. Surfers avoided it because of the dangerous rip tides. Tourists avoided it because you had to walk across grazing pastures to get to it. The locals preferred hanging out at the Venus pool a little farther to the south. So most days he had the half-mile stretch of sugar sand to himself.

It took him 15 minutes to get to his property, and the whole time he thought of her. He still didn't understand. Things had been so good between them, why had she chosen Eliot over him?

He had actually felt sorry for Eliot when he first saw him in Portland. He was pathetic. But now he had a new understanding. Losing her was a life changer.

What kept him awake some nights was the anguish over never really knowing if she had ever been his. Had he really loved and lost or just lost?

The small house was set well back from the famous road and the landscape gave it total privacy. So, he didn't know he had a visitor until he cleared the fence line. He stopped in his tracks. A car was parked behind his. Instincts kicked in and he slipped into the shrubs and scanned the area thoroughly.

No lights in the house, but a slight movement on the deck. The house was built on a severe slope - the carport under the deck. That made it impossible for him to see much of anything on the deck. Finally a figure appeared at the edge of the deck and looked in his direction.

Dusk was falling, the sun setting behind her, so he couldn't see her face. But just from the outline of her torso he knew it was her. He held his breath.

"I'm looking for the Seven Sacred Pools," she said. "Did I take a wrong turn?"

He smiled to himself and stepped out of the shrubs. "No, you're in the right place. Just give me a second and I'll turn on the hose..."

She stared at him for several moments. Long moments. He tried to memorize the sight, not knowing if he'd ever get to experience something like this again.

"One foot in front of the other, Beau..." she said, motioning with her hand for him to join her.

He took another long moment to think about it. She was here. It was like a dream. But why was she here? It had been two months since she left him in Monterey. She said she was going back to Rio, but he figured she eventually went back to Eliot.

He walked to the stairs, felt her eyes heavy on him. He climbed them and stopped at the top to look at her. Now she was turned to face the setting sun, her face and hair illuminated with soft light. She was wearing a white tank top and a full, brightly colored skirt.

She smiled. "You don't seem very surprised to see me."

"I couldn't be more surprised," he said. "How did you find me?"

"Chloe."

"Wow, sister sells me out again. How did you explain that to her?"

"I started with the apology," she said. "And then I told her the truth."

"The truth?" he repeated.

She smiled. "Well, the vague truth."

He took a step closer. "Which is?"

"That I knew you before I knew her. That we had a working relationship that became something more. And that I loved you."

His stomach quivered and his legs felt like rubber. "That's the truth?"

She nodded. "The absolute truth."

He took a step closer. "So you're here because you love me?"

She smiled. "How many times do I have to say it?"

He slowly moved toward her, "Every time I ask... why are you here, Jocelyn?"

He stopped in front of her and looked into her eyes.

"Because I love you, Beau."

He smiled, put his hand to her face and kissed her.

_You're my back bone, you're me cornerstone  
You're my crutch when my legs stop moving  
You're my head start, you're my rugged heart  
You're the pulse that I've always needed  
~ Gone, Gone, Gone _by Phillip Phillips ~


	27. Chapter 27 - Madness

**Twenty-Seven: Madness**

Soundtrack: _Madness _by Muse

**Author's Note: ** My final posting… a resolution that isn't really. And even if you liked Chapter 25 best, it's probably still okay to read this one. It's more of an open door for a buddy-search-and-rescue tale that my writer's brain is playing with. Thanks again for reading!

_I can't get these memories out of my mind,  
And some kind of madness has started to evolve.  
I tried so hard to let you go,  
But some kind of madness is swallowing me whole, yeah_

He'd lost track of how long he'd been sitting there. Time wasn't that important to him lately. He looked out at the water and watched it for a few moments. Lake Michigan was angry, churning up 4-foot waves. The wind was merciless, buffeting him until he could barely move his fingers. He stared at the ominous gray clouds moving in over the water. A storm was on its way.

It didn't matter much to him. He had been spending much of his "vacation" sitting in the cold rain and drinking beer. He had six open bottles waiting under his left hand. He leaned down and grabbed one and took a long drink.

He had bought the vacation house back when they were together, wanting to surprise her with it. He was sure she would love it. At least in the summer months. She considered Chicago her home and was always drawn to the lake. But he had never found the time to bring her here before things started to fall apart.

This was the first time since he bought it that he had spent any time in it. Hardison had set up a front company that rented it and it had made Eliot some good money through the years. It was a beautiful property right on Lake Michigan near Union Pier. The main house had enough room to sleep 10 people with two fireplaces, a fitness room, in-ground pool, hot-tub, and basketball court.

But the guest house was more his style. Smaller and closer to lake, it couldn't be seen from the main house unless you walked down the stairs to the secluded beach. It was a modest little house with an open floor plan, a full bar, and a brick patio perfect for sitting and watching the lake. And drinking.

He finished the first bottle and looked at the label briefly. Burning River. He smiled ruefully. _Nice_. He exchanged the empty for a fresh one and looked back out to the water.

They had worked hard for four months to establish Leverage International. They completed several jobs and he felt good working again. But as the months passed and his hope faded, life became more difficult. It was tough to accept that she wasn't coming back.

He finally broke down and called Nate. After a long talk, Nate suggested he take some time off to come up with his own resolution.

_"You have to move on, Eliot. One way or the other."_

He had been at his lake house for almost a week and still didn't know what to do. He figured he had a choice: go find her and win her back or move on without her. He was in a much better place than when she had come to his rescue. He knew he could live without her. But he would never love again. Not like he loved her.

He felt a burning sensation in his chest and his throat tightened. He took a drink but it tasted different.

Had she really chosen Quinn over him? Was she still with him four months later? The thought was too much for him to bear.

He dropped his head over his chest and closed his eyes against the tears.

It was his fault, he knew that. She was his and he had taken her for granted. He had driven her away.

He shook his head and took another long drink, trying to ignore change in his palate.

He had tried in Vegas. When the job was done, he had opened himself to her - had told her it would be different.

She left with Quinn.

A few tears slid from his eyes and he brushed them quickly away.

There was movement to his right and he instinctively came to his feet and turned toward the man walking down the steps.

"Were you crying?!"

"Quinn!" Eliot's brain started spinning out questions. He looked up the path toward the main house hoping to see Jocelyn. He looked back at Quinn. "Where's Jocelyn?"

Quinn gave a forced laugh. "I was hoping you could tell me, pal." He stepped on to the patio. "I can tell you where she's not. She's not with me..." He bobbed his head toward his shoulder for emphasis. "And she sure as hell isn't in Rio which is where she is supposed to be." Quinn nodded his head toward the guest house. "Is she here?"

Eliot eyed him. He looked different. Tired. Older. "No."

Quinn's face softened and he stepped closer, Eliot angled his body slightly, still not sure of Quinn's intentions. Quinn was dressed in cargo pants, a white shirt, navy fleece jacket, and boots. Eliot saw no suspicious bulges, but he knew Quinn didn't go anywhere without a weapon.

"If she's here, just tell me," Quinn said. "I'm not going to make a scene. I just want to know she's okay."

Eliot shook his head. "She's not here."

"Have you heard from her?" Quinn asked.

He shook his head. "Haven't talked to her since Vegas. I thought..."

"You thought she was with me..." Quinn said with a sigh. He shook his head. "No, she moved back to Rio two months ago. Then about a week ago I lost all contact with her."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn moved his hands nervously like he had consumed too much caffiene. "She at least would answer my calls, you know? She would send me a text once in awhile. But that stopped." Quinn stared at him.

"So?"

Quinn clasped his nervous hands together. "So, I went to Rio. Found her place. She's not there."

"You're stalking her?" Eliot snapped.

Fat, cold raindrops started to fall.

"No! Don't you get it? She's in trouble! All her stuff was there, but she wasn't. I tracked down some of the people she knew there... no one has heard from her or seen her since last Sunday!"

Eliot's stomach twisted. "Did you talk to Dexter or Winger?"

"I tried," Quinn replied with a frown, "they aren't answering their calls or texts either."

His stomach eased slightly. "They're probably on a job."

Quinn shook his head earnestly. "What part of 'she's retired' do you not understand?"

"Fine!" Eliot said with a forceful exhale. He walked to the guest house door and motioned for Quinn to follow. He went to the bedroom and dug his cell phone and charger out of the bottom of his bag.

When he stepped out of the small bedroom he found Quinn at the bar pouring his best bourbon into a juice glass. He walked to the bar and plugged in the phone.

He scowled at Quinn and his glass. "Make yourself at home," he growled.

"You're a lousy host," Quinn replied before taking a drink.

He shifted his eyes to the phone, impatient for it to come to life.

Quinn shook his head and forced a laugh. "What are you going to do? Call her?"

"That's the first step," he replied. He glared at the phone that refused to respond and looked back at Quinn. "How did you even find me?"

"I still have Ford's number from when he called me about saving your ass."

"Nate told you where I was?" he grumbled.

"Unlike you," Quinn said, motioning at him with the nearly empty juice glass, "Ford listens to reason."

Rain started making noise against the windows. The phone finally had enough charge to be usable. He tapped his security code and scrolled through his contacts. She was no longer listed under his frequent contacts. He ran his thumb over the phone until he got 'L', and tapped her name, Loki.

He put the phone to his ear. It rang. If he remembered correctly, it would ring five times before going to voice mail.

Second ring. He studied Quinn's face and thought about what he had said. Was it possible that she was in danger? Three rings. Quinn certainly believed it. But she was the most capable woman he knew. He couldn't imagine anything happening that she couldn't handle. Four rings. More likely she was just trying to avoid Quinn. It would be a special kind of revenge to confirm that theory...

"Hello?"

Eliot blinked hard. He was actually surprised to have someone answer. He knew better than to blurt out her real name. "Uh... Loki?" he asked.

Quinn's eyes got large. His jaw dropped open slightly.

"Yeah, Cowboy, it's me." It sounded like her voice. She used the name that only she ever used. But there was no emotion in her voice. No smile, no anger... nothing. That was weird. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

His mind spun, trying to decide how to proceed. There was definitely something wrong with her. It was possible that somebody else was hearing their conversation.

"Nothing," he responded brilliantly. "Nothing big going on here."

Quinn opened his mouth to object and with a harsh glare and a quick gesture of his hand, Eliot stopped him from uttering anything.

There was a pause on her end. "Then why are you calling me?"

He knew he had to come up with a good excuse incase someone was listening. He clenched his jaw. It was going to be humiliating no matter how he did it.

He looked at Quinn's empty glass and slid into a drunken slur. "It's just that I've been thinking about you..."

Quinn's forehead wrinkled and he cocked his head like he was trying to figure out what was going on.

"I want you back, darlin," he drawled. "I need you to come home..."

He could hear her exhale forcefully. "What you need is to delete my number from your phone. We're over, Eliot. Been over for a long time. We're not getting back together. Ever. You understand?"

She used his name. If someone was listening they already knew who he was, she wouldn't have made that mistake otherwise.

"But, sugar..." he protested.

"No buts!" she snapped. "Don't call me again. And don't come looking for me. It will only make trouble for us all. Tell me you understand."

"I miss you so much..." he slurred.

"Goodbye, Eliot." She ended the call.

He pulled the phone away and stared at it. The rain picked up and began sheeting down the French doors that lead to the patio.

He could feel Quinn's eyes on him and finally met his stare.

"You believe me now?" Quinn asked.

He exhaled and gave a curt nod. "She's in some kind of trouble."

"So what do we do?"

He studied Quinn. He was overflowing with anxiety. "She didn't tell you?"

Quinn frowned. "Tell me what?"

He slid a finger over the phone, locating the app he needed.

"Tell me what?" Quinn repeated, anger growing in his voice.

He tapped the app and watched as it searched for her GPS location. "About the transponder," he said casually. "I assumed it was the only reason you would come to me for help finding her, but turns out you were just that desperate..."

"Transponder?" Quinn came to his side and looked at the phone. "You're shitting me."

The app zoomed in on Europe, then after a few seconds pulled up a map of France.

"Paris?" Quinn guessed. "She's in Paris? Right now?"

"Wait," Eliot said as the app enlarged a region of France southwest of Paris. "At this moment she is in Amboise."

They stared at each other for several long moments. Quinn exhaled and shook his head slightly. "All I want to do is get on a plane and find her..."

Eliot waited for more, but Quinn just stared at him in silence. "But...?" Eliot prompted.

The muscles in Quinn's face were tense as he spoke, "You talked to her... you've known her longer. What do we do?"

Eliot took only a moment to think it over. "This whole thing is weird," he admitted. "There's definitely something wrong, but it might just be that she's pissed at us both."

Quinn shrugged. "It's possible. We could find her on vacation with a new boy toy."

Eliot's mind took Quinn's words and crafted them into a vivid picture in his head. He frowned. "One thing I know for sure is We have no options if we stay here," he said.

"We're going to France?" Quinn said.

Eliot nodded. "We're going to France."

_And now I have finally seen the end  
And I'm not expecting you to care  
But I have finally seen the light  
I have finally realized  
I need to love_

_~ Madness _by Muse ~


End file.
